leader of the Texas Democratic Party. He answered on the second ring.
'Clint, how are you this day?'
'Terrible. I'm in Lubbock.'
'Yes, well, that was your first mistake.' The mayor chuckled. 'What are you doing in Lubbock?'
'Stalking the governor.'
'Ah. And what have you learned?'
'That our boy's gonna get his ass kicked in November.'
'You just figured that out?'
'No-but I'm always hopeful. Or I was.'
'There is no reason to hope, my friend, not for the Governor's Mansion. Not this election. But be patient. Our time will come. The governor-for-life will surely die one day.'
He chuckled again.
'Maybe, but I'll be out of a job before then.'
'Do not fret, Clint. No one in the party expects you to beat Bode Bonner.'
'Jorge, the guy is fucking Teflon. We've got a twenty-seven-billion-dollar deficit, but no one blames him-hell, they don't even believe we have a deficit. We're suffering the worst economy in decades, and they don't care as long as they can keep their guns and watch Fox News on cable.' He paused. 'God, what I'd give for a good sex scandal in the Governor's Mansion.'
The mayor laughed. 'Clint, would you cheat on the governor's wife if she were your wife?'
'No.'
'Even a Republican governor is not that stupid. Search for another scandal, my friend.'
'Mrs. Bonner! Look this way!'
The cameras took aim at her like a firing squad, the photographers wanting a front-page photo called out to her, and the people reached out to her. She smiled for the cameras, but the crowds frightened her. The raw emotion. The mob mentality. The power her husband held over them. She eased closer to Ranger Roy, who towered next to her, protecting her, holding her door open and gently tugging her arm. One last wave, then she climbed inside the Suburban and breathed a sigh of relief.
She had escaped the crowd.
But her husband didn't want to escape. He loved the crowd. He thrived on the crowd. He needed the crowd as much as they needed him, cheering for him, touching him, taking photos with him, so desperate to breathe the same air he breathed. He shook hands and slapped backs and kissed babies-and a few women-until Jim Bob Burnet pulled him away and pushed him into the vehicle. But Jim Bob did not get in; he was not allowed in the same vehicle as the governor's wife. Ranger Hank shut the door and jumped in the driver's seat; Ranger Roy rode shotgun. They began a slow exit from the fairgrounds through a gauntlet of cheering Republicans. The governor of Texas had a big smile on his face and red lipstick on his cheek.
'Hell, I could win the White House on red states alone. They love me!'
Lindsay Bonner stared at her husband. Regardless of the many ways a man ages-hair graying and thinning and finally disappearing entirely; the sharp jaw line descending into floppy jowls; the V-shaped torso gradually turning upside-down until his waist possessed all the structural integrity (and allure) of a mud puddle-his wife still sees the man she fell in love with. She is blind to his physical diminishment.
But disillusionment-that was another matter.
Her husband's hair was still golden, his facial features still sharply etched, his body still remarkably tight and muscular, almost as if he hadn't aged at all the last twenty-two years. But he had changed. She no longer saw the man she had fallen in love with. She now sat next to a complete stranger.
'Who are you?'
His smile disappeared. He groaned.
'Don't start with me, Lindsay.'
Up front, Ranger Hank swapped an uneasy glance with Ranger Roy, as if to say, Here we go again. He turned up the volume on the radio.
'No. Really. Who are you?'
Her husband pointed at the cheering crowd outside the vehicle.
'Whoever they want me to be.'
'Do you really believe all that?'
'All what?'
'Boys marrying boys, girls marrying girls, Mexicans having Americans…'
'I'm just riding the wave.'
'What wave?'
He again gestured at the crowd.
'That wave. See, it's like investing-'
'Your daughter's a lesbian.'
'I'm hoping it's a college fad.'
'You really shouldn't encourage that.'
'I didn't tell her to be a lesbian.'
'Not her.' She now pointed at the crowd. 'Them.'
'I'm not encouraging anything. Jim Bob takes a poll then writes a speech saying what they want to hear. That's different.'
'That's following.'
'That's politics. Jim Bob says-'
'Jim Bob says…'
She shook her head.
'He's tweeting for me now, on that Twitter.'
'He was already thinking for you. Pretty soon, he'll be breathing for you. I guess I should have sex with him.'
She shuddered at the thought.
'Well, you sure as hell ain't been having sex with me.'
The Rangers grimaced, like kids when their parents argued. Their heads seemed to sink into their shoulders. Hank turned the air conditioning on full blast while she fought the urge to bring up Mandy Morgan- as if I don't know! — but she did not need that gossip running through the Ranger ranks across the State of Texas. Or did they already know? She stared west at the distant haze of the fires and took a long moment to calm herself; she then turned back to her husband.
'Can we talk about the colonias? '
Another groan from the governor. 'No.'
'Bode, we need to help those people.'
'We're broke and they're Mexicans.'
'They're still people.'
'And we're still broke.'
'If you saw how they live-'
'I've been to Mexico.'
'But they live in Texas-without running water, sewer, or electricity.'
He exhaled loudly, a sign he was annoyed.
'Jesus, all you've talked about the last month is the colonias. I wish to hell Jim Bob hadn't sent you down to the border. Incited your liberal Boston breeding.'
She felt the heat rise within her.
'Bode Bonner, I'm not a Texan by birth or by choice. But after forty years living in this state, I am a Texan. And by God, it's high time you native Texans got over the Alamo and quit hating Mexicans!'
'I don't hate Mexicans. Hell, I was raised by Mexicans, I worked cattle with Mexicans, I dated… Never mind.'
'You don't hate particular Mexicans, just Mexicans in general.'
'I hate Democrats in general, not Mexicans.'
