Someone knocked on the door. It was Nelson and Zee. A man, a stranger to Avery, was with them. Fancy bounded off the bed and embraced her
grandparents in turn. Since her arrival in Fort Worth, her mood had been effervescent.
“Good morning, Fancy.” Zee cast a disapproving glance at Fancy’s denim miniskirt and red cowboy boots, but said nothing.
“Who’s he?” Tate asked, nodding at the man lingering on the threshold.
“The barber we sent for.” Dirk stepped forward and pulled the dazed man into the room. “Sit down, Tate, and let him get started. He can clip while we talk.
Something conservative,” he told the barber, who whisked a blue-and-white-striped drape around Tate’s neck and took a comb to his hair.
“Here,” Ralph said, shoving a sheaf of papers beneath Tate’s nose. “Glance over these.”
“What are they?”
“Your speeches for today.”
“I’ve already written my speeches.” No one listened to or acknowledged him.
The phone rang. Jack answered. “Channel four,” he excitedly informed them, covering the mouthpiece.
“Zee, Nelson, find seats, please, and let’s get down to business. The morning’s getting away.” In his element, Dirk took the floor. “As Eddy has said, we
had a terrific turnout at Billy Bob’s last night and raised a lot of campaign dollars. God knows we need them. Once momentum subsides, supporters stop
contributing.”
“Even though we’re currently behind by a substantial margin, we don’t want it to look like we’re giving up,” Ralph said as he bounced the coins in his
pocket.
“The people at channel four said they’d be at General Dynamics to get a sound bite of Tate’s speech, but that’s all they’ll promise,” Jack reported as he
hung up the phone.
Dirk nodded. “Not great, but better than nothing.”
“See, Tate,” Ralph said, continuing as though the second conversation weren’t going on, “even if you lose, you don’t want it to look like you gave up.”
“I’m not going to lose.” He glanced at Avery and winked.
“Well, no, of course not,” Ralph stammered, laughing uncomfortably. “I only meant ”
“You’re not taking enough off,” Dirk sourly told the barber. “I said conservative.”
Tate batted the barber’s fussing hands away. “What’s this?” He pointed to a paragraph in one of the speeches that had been written for him. Again he
was ignored.
“Hey, listen to this.” Eddy read a passage from the newspaper. “Dekker comes right out and calls you a rabble-rouser, Tate.”
“I think he’s running scared,” Nelson said, drawing Dirk’s attention to him.
“Nelson, I want you to be a prominent figure on the podium when Tate speaks at General Dynamics this afternoon. Those military contracts keep them in
business. Since you’re an ex-flier, you’ll be a bonus.”
“Am I to go? And Mandy?” Zee asked.
“I’ll be glad to stay with Mandy,” Dorothy Rae offered.
“Everybody goes.” Dirk frowned at the empty glass in Dorothy Rae’s hand. “And everybody looks his best. Squeaky-clean America. That means you too,
missy,” he said to Fancy. “No miniskirt.”
“Go screw yourself.”
“Francine Rutledge!” Nelson thundered. “You’ll be sent home promptly if you use that kind of language again.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “But who’s this asshole to tell me how to dress?”
Dirk, unfazed, turned to Avery. “You usually do fine as far as wardrobe goes. Don’t wear anything too flashy today. These are working people, wage
earners. Tate, I picked the gray suit for you today.”
“Don’t forget to remind him about his shirt,” Ralph said.
“Oh, yes, wear a blue shirt, not white. White doesn’t photograph as well on TV.”
“All my blue shirts are dirty.”
“I told you to send them out to be laundered every day.”
“Well, I forgot, okay?” Suddenly he swiveled around and snatched the scissors from the barber’s hands. “I don’t want my hair cut any more. I like it like
this.”
In a tone of voice he might have used on Mandy, Dirk said, “It’s too long, Tate.”
He was out of his chair in an instant. “Who says? The voters? Those workers out at GD? Channel five’s viewing audience? Or just you?”
Avery wanted to applaud. Unlike everyone else, she hadn’t been caught up in the pandemonium going on around her. She’d been watching Tate. The
more he read of the papers Ralph had given him to study, the deeper his scowl had become. She had sensed that his temper was about to erupt and
she’d been right.
He whipped the drape from around his neck, sending hair clippings flying. He fished into his pocket and came up with a fifty-dollar bill, foisted it on the
barber, and walked him to the door. “Thanks a lot.” Tate shut the door on him.
When Tate turned back into the room, his expression was as ominous as the low clouds that still scuttled across the sky. “Next time, Dirk, I’ll let you know
when I need a haircut, if I deem it any of your business, which, frankly, I don’t. And I would also appreciate it if you’d stay out of my closet and consult me
before moving in on my family’s private quarters.”
“There was no place else to meet,” Eddy said.
“The hell there wasn’t, Eddy,” he shouted, rounding on his friend, who had dared to intervene. “This hotel has several hundred rooms. But since you’re
already here,” he said, picking up the sheets of paper he’d tossed down on the dresser, “I’d like to know what the hell this is supposed to signify?”
Ralph leaned over and read a few lines. “That’s your position on the new education bill.”
“Like hell it is. This is bullshit. That’s what this is.” He slapped the sheet of paper with the back of his hand. “Whitewashed, watered down, wishy-washy
bullshit.”
Zee left her chair. “I’ll take Mandy into the other room to watch TV.” She led the child away by the hand.
“I have to go potty, Grandma.”
“Okay, darling. Fancy, you might want to come with us.” “Hell, no. I wouldn’t budge for ten million bucks,” she said from her position in the middle of the
bed. She opened a fresh stick of Juicy Fruit and added it to the one already in her mouth.
When the door had been closed behind Zee and Mandy, Ralph ventured forth with a conciliatory explanation. “We simply felt, Tate, that your position on
some of the campaign issues should be softened.”
“Without consulting me?” Tate demanded, bearing down on the much shorter man. “It’s my position,” he said, thumping his chest. “My position.”
“You’re trailing in the polls,” the man pointed out reasonably.
“I was doing that before you were retained to advise me. I’ve sunk lower since then.”
“Because you haven’t been taking our advice.”
“Uh-uh,” Tate said, stubbornly shaking his head. “I think it’s because I’ve been taking too much of it.”
Eddy stood up. “What are you implying, Tate?”
“Not a damn thing. I’m outright stating that I don’t need anybody to pick out my shirts and suits or hire my barbers. I’m saying that I don’t want anybody to
put words in my mouth. I’m saying that I don’t want anybody softening my position until it’s so soft that even I don’t recognize it. The people who have
pledged their votes to me on the basis of those positions would think I’d gone crazy. Or worse, that I had betrayed them.”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
Tate confronted his brother. “It’s not your hair they’re trying to cut, Jack,” he said heatedly.
“But it might just as well be,” he fired back. “I’m in this as much as you are.”
“Then you should know how important it is to me that I’m my own man.”
“You are,” Eddy said.
“The hell I am! What’s wrong with the way I dress?” He gestured down to the clothes he’d worn to breakfast. “Do you really think it matters to those workers
out at GD what color shirt I have on? Hell, no! They want to know if I’m for a strong defense program or for cutting the defense budget because my Senate
vote may determine whether or not they’ll have jobs for the next several years.”
He paused to draw a breath and plowed his hand through his hair, which, Avery was glad to see, the barber hadn’t gotten too much of. “Look, guys, this is
me.” He held his arms out perpendicular to his body. “This is the ticket. This is how I originally went to the Texas voters. Change me and they won’t
recognize me.”
“We don’t want to change you, Tate,” Dirk said expansively. “Only make you better.”
He clapped Tate on the shoulder. Tate shrugged off his hand. “Gentlemen, I’d like to speak to my family in private, please.”
“If there’s something to discuss ”
Tate held up his hand to ward off their objections. “Please.” They moved toward the door reluctantly. Dirk shot Eddy a telling glance before they went out.
“Carole, would you pour me a cup of that coffee, please?”
“Certainly.” As she rose to do so, Tate dropped into an easy chair. She brought the requested cup of coffee and sat down on the upholstered arm of his
chair. Tate took the coffee with one hand and casually draped his other over her knee.
Eddy said, “Well, that was quite a speech.”
“I tried it your way, Eddy. Against my better judgment, I let you hire them.” His gaze was direct and so was his statement. “I don’t like them.”
“I’ll talk to them, tell them to back off a little.”
“Wait,” Tate said, as Eddy headed for the door. “That’s not good enough. They don’t listen.”
“Okay, I’ll tell them that by the end of this tour we want to see drastic improvements in the polls or else.”
“Still not good enough.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Tate looked at everyone in the room before saying, “Give them their walking papers.”
“Fire them?” Jack exclaimed. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not? We hired them, didn’t we?”
“You just don’t shrug off a company like Wakely and Foster. You’ll never be able to use them again.”
“I don’t consider that any great loss.”
“You can’t do it,” Jack said stubbornly.
Eddy pleaded, “Tate, I beg you to think about this carefully.”
“I have. I don’t like them. I don’t like what they’re trying to do.”
“Which is?” Jack’s tone was snide, his stance belligerent.
“Which is to mold me into what they think I should be, not what I am. Okay, maybe I need some grooming. I could use some coaching, some finesse. But I
don’t like things to be mandated. I sure as hell don’t like words put in my mouth when I don’t even agree with them.”
“You’re only being stubborn,” Jack said. “Just like when you were a kid. If I told you you couldn’t do something, that’s exactly what you became damned
and determined to do just to show me up.”
Tate expelled a long breath. “Jack, I’ve listened to your advice, and it’s always been sound. I don’t want to second-guess you on this decision ”
“But that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
“It was my decision, too,” Tate said, raising his voice. “Now I’m changing my mind.”
“Just like that?” Eddy said, snapping his fingers. “With the election only a few weeks away, you want to switch horses in the middle of the stream?”
“No, dammit, that’s what they were trying to do!” He shot out of his chair and pointed toward the door through which the two under discussion had passed.
“They wanted to bend and shape me until I wouldn’t be recognizable to the voters who have backed me from the beginning. I’d be selling out. I’d be no
better than Dekker. Slicker than owl shit. Two-faced. Double-dealing.” He was met with a wall of silent opposition from Eddy and his brother.
He turned to Nelson. “Dad? Help me out here.”
“Why ask for my help now? You’ve already let your temper get the best of you. Don’t ever get mad, Tate. Get even.”
“How?”
“Win.”
“By keeping my mouth shut and taking their advice?”
“Unless you feel that you’re being compromised.”
“Well, that’s exactly where I am. I’d rather lose the election being myself than win and know I’ve had to compromise on everything I stand for. I’m sorry if
none of you agrees.”
“I’m on Eddy’s side,” Fancy said, “if anybody’s interested in my opinion.”
“Nobody is,” Jack said to her. “Carole?”
She had refrained from entering the verbal melee. Until Tate asked for her opinion, she intended to withhold it. Now that he had, she raised her head and
looked up at him with newly formed intimacy and the wordless communication of lovers.
“Whatever you decide is all right with me, Tate. I’m with you all the way.”
“Oh, yeah? Since when?” Jack rounded on Tate. “You talk about compromises. Sleeping with her again is the biggest compromise you ever made, little
brother.”
“That’s enough, Jack!” Nelson bellowed.
“Dad, you know as well as I do that ”
“Enough! When you can control your own wife, you can start criticizing Tate.”
Jack glared at his father, then at his brother, then hunched his shoulders and stormed out. Dorothy Rae rose from her chair unsteadily and followed him.
“I guess you’ll walk next,” Tate said to Eddy in the tense aftermath of their departure.
Eddy smiled lopsidedly. “You know better than that. Unlike Jack, I don’t take these things personally. I think you’re wrong, but…” He gave an eloquent
shrug. “We’ll know on election day.” He clapped his friend on the back. “Guess I’d better go break the bad news to our former consultants.” He left; Fancy
was hot on his heels.
Zee brought Mandy in. The atmosphere still crackled with animosity. Uneasily, she remarked, “I heard a lot of shouting.”
“We got some things sorted out,” Nelson said. “I hope my decision is okay by you, Dad.”
“As you said, it was your decision. I hope you’re prepared to live with it.”
“For my peace of mind, that’s the way it had to be.”
“Then stop apologizing for something that’s already done.”
“I told Mandy we would walk down to Sundance Square for a while,” Zee said, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation. “I don’t think it’s going to rain
anymore.”
“I’ll come along,” Nelson said, scooping the child into his arms, his good humor seemingly restored. “I could use the exercise. And we won’t mind if it does
rain, will we, Mandy?”
“Thanks for backing me up,” Tate said to Avery when they were finally alone. “You haven’t always.”
“As Jack rudely reminded me.”
“He was upset.”
“More than that, Tate. Jack despises me.”
He seemed disinclined to address that. Perhaps he knew, as Avery did, that Jack didn’t like Carole, but he desired her. Maybe Tate ignored that
calamitous fact in the desperate hope that it would go away.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked. “Why’d you take my side? Did you feel like it was your wifely duty?”
“No,” she said, taking umbrage. “I sided with you because I believe you’re right. I didn’t like them or their meddling or their advice any better than you did.”
It had occurred to her that the men from Wakely and Foster might somehow be connected to the plot to assassinate Tate. That was another reason she
was so glad to see the last of them.
After the recent heated discussion, the suite suddenly seemed very quiet. Paradoxically, without all the other people, the parlor seemed smaller, not
larger. Their silent solitude pressed in on them.
Avery clasped her hands at her waist. “Well, I ”
“Good of Mom and Dad to take Mandy for a walk.”
“Yes, it was.”
“She’ll enjoy the outing.”
“And it’ll give you a chance to study your speeches without interruption.”
“Hmm.”
“Although I don’t think you really need to study them.”
“No, I feel comfortable about today’s schedule.”
“That’s good.”
He contemplated the toes of his boots for a moment. When he looked up, he asked, “Do you think it’ll rain?”
“I, uh…” She gave the window a cursory glance. “I don’t think so, no. It ”
He reached for her, pulled her against him, kissed her neck.
“Tate?”
“Hmm?” He walked her backward toward the sofa.
“I thought, after last night, you wouldn’t want…”
“You thought wrong.”
THIRTY-NINE
“Boo!”
Fancy sprang out from behind the door as soon as Eddy entered his hotel room. He didn’t even flinch. “How’d you get in here?”
“I bribed a maid.”
“With what?”
“Uncle Tate’s jockstrap.”
“You’re sick.”
“Don’t ya love it?”
“What’s that?” He pointed to a table in front of the large window. It was draped with a white cloth and had two place settings laid out on it.
“Lunch. Crab salad in cute little avocado halves.”
“You should have asked me first, Fancy.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“It wouldn’t matter if I were. I’ve only got a minute.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the telephone. After consulting the piece of scrap
paper in his shirt pocket, he punched out the number. “Mr. George Malone, please.”
Fancy stood on her knees behind him and ground her pelvis against his spine. “Mr. Malone? This is Eddy Paschal, with the Rutledge campaign. You
called?” Eddy ducked his head when she leaned over his shoulder and bit his earlobe.
“Mr. Rutledge’s schedule is tight, I’m afraid. What did you have in mind? How many people? Uh-huh.”
She kissed his neck, lightly sucking the skin up against her teeth. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Cut it out, Fancy. I’m busy.”
Pouting, she flounced off the bed. Moving to the bureau mirror, she paused to plump her hair. Bending at the waist, she flung the thick mane upside down.
When she straightened up, she was encouraged to notice that Eddy had been looking at her ass. Facing him with her feet widely spaced, she gathered
up her short skirt, flirtatiously raising it an inch at a time.
“How soon do you have to know?”
As Eddy continued to speak smoothly into the telephone, she ran her splayed hands up the fronts of her thighs. Her thumbs met at the red satin triangle
covering her pubis. She stroked it once, twice, then peeled the panties off and dangled them in front of his nose.
“I’ll speak with Mr. Rutledge and get back to you as soon as possible. In any event, we appreciate your interest. Thank you for the invitation.”
He hung up. To Fancy’s dismay he brushed past her and went to the bathroom, where he combed his hair and washed his hands.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she demanded when she joined him.
“Nothing. I’m in a hurry, that’s all.”
“You’re mad because Uncle Tate had you fire those assholes, aren’t you?”
“Not mad. I just disagree, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t take it out on me.”
“I’m not.” He straightened his tie and checked his cuff links.
“Quite a scene this morning, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen Uncle Tate so hot. He’s kinda cute when he’s in that mood. I love it when a man is on the verge of
losing his temper.” She slipped her arms beneath Eddy’s, reached around him, and pressed her hands against his fly. “That potential violence is so sexy.”
“I haven’t got time for you now, Fancy.” He removed her hands and stepped back into the bedroom.
She flopped down on the bed and watched as he sorted through the papers in his briefcase. He looked so handsome when his brow was furrowed with
concentration.
Inspired, Fancy scooted up the bed until her back was against the headboard. She peeled her white cotton sweater over her head and tossed it on the
floor beside her discarded panties. Then, left only in her miniskirt and red cowboy boots, she softly called his name. He turned. Slowly, she dragged her
tongue over her lower lip and whispered, Ever had a cowgirl?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” he said blandly. “Last night. In the ass. Or don’t you remember?”
Fancy’s widespread knees snapped together like the jaws of a sprung trap. She rolled to the edge of the bed, picked up her sweater, and worked it over
her head, furiously thrusting her arms into the sleeves.
When she confronted him, her eyes were shimmering with tears. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“You seemed to think so last night.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she yelled.
Eddy calmly closed his briefcase and picked up the jacket of his suit. “Nice is a strange word coming from you.” He headed for the door.
She caught his sleeve as he moved past her. “Why are you being so hateful to me?”
“I’m in a hurry, Fancy.”
“Then you’re not mad?”
He sidestepped her. “I’m not mad.”
“Will I see you later?”
“At the rally this afternoon.” He patted his pocket to make sure he had his room key, then reached for the doorknob.
She flattened herself against the door. “You know what I mean. Will I see you later?” Smiling seductively, she squeezed him through his trousers.
“Yes, I know what you mean.” He brushed aside her caressing hand and opened the door, despite her efforts to keep him from it. “In the meantime, try and
stay out of trouble.”
As the door closed behind him, Fancy swore liberally. She’d planned an intimate little lunch, then a quick, raunchy tumble. Or, depending on his schedule,
a long leisurely afternoon of lovemaking.
So much for that, she thought resentfully. Nobody did or said anything anymore unless it related to the election. She was damn sick and tired of hearing
about the election. She would be so glad when it was over and done with so Eddy could concentrate solely on her.
She propped herself against the headboard again and turned on the TV. A soap opera couple were smooching beneath satin sheets. Angry and jealous,
she mashed the button on the remote control to switch channels. Geraldo Rivera was refereeing a shouting match between a fundamentalist preacher and
a cross-dresser. On another station a group of housewives was sniffing open jars of peanut butter. She went back to the soap opera.
She loved Eddy passionately, but admitted that part of his appeal was his remoteness. She’d known guys who screwed their brains out, literally. The
building could fall down around them and they wouldn’t know it until after they climaxed.
Not Eddy. His physical performance was excellent, but his mind remained detached from his body. Even the most intimate acts never required emotional
involvement from him. His participation was almost that of an observer.
That steely control excited her. It was different, intriguing.
But sometimes she wished Eddy would gaze at her with dopey adoration like the hunky male soap star was gazing into the face of the gorgeous ingenue.
His eyes spoke volumes of unqualified love while his lips nibbled her fingertips.
Capturing Eddy Paschal’s heart would be a real coup. She would delight in knowing that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, that they would hungrily follow
her as she moved about a room.
She would love for Eddy to be totally absorbed with her like that.
She would love for him to be absorbed with her the way Uncle Tate was with Aunt Carole.
Dorothy Rae launched her attack while they were sitting in the limousine waiting for the men to rejoin them. One second she was staring docilely out the
window at the red, white, and blue bunting flapping in the wind, the next she was hissing at Avery like a she-cat.
“You loved it, didn’t you?”
Mandy’s head was resting in Avery’s lap. The child had become tired and restless at the outdoor rally, so she had returned to the car with her before the
program was over. Mandy was asleep now. Dorothy Rae, who had accompanied them back to the car, had been so quiet that Avery had almost forgotten
she was there.
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked vaguely.
“I said you loved it.”.
Her meaning escaped Avery completely. She shook her head in confusion. “Loved what?”
“Loved making Jack look like a fool this morning.”
Was she drunk? Avery took a closer look at her. On the contrary, she seemed in desperate need of a drink. Her eyes were clear but had the blazing
wildness of someone gone mad. She was wringing a damp Kleenex between her hands.
“How did I make Jack look like a fool?” Avery asked.
“By taking Tate’s side.”
“Tate is my husband.”
“And Jack’s mine!”
Mandy was roused, but after opening her eyes once, she fell back asleep instantly. Dorothy Rae lowered her voice. “That hasn’t stopped you from trying to
steal him away from me.”
“I haven’t tried to steal him.”
“Not lately, maybe,” she said, taking a swipe at her leaky eyes with the Kleenex, “but before the crash you did.”
Avery said nothing.
“The thing that makes it so despicable,” Dorothy Rae continued, “is that you really didn’t want him. As soon as he became interested, you spurned him.
You didn’t care that your rejection crushed his ego. You only wanted to get at Tate by flirting with his brother.”
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