"Which means?"
"Which means the tea party can't put you or anyone else in the White House. Only the Establishment Republicans have the money for that. The Democrats are going to spend a billion dollars to keep Obama in the White House. Where's that money coming from? The unemployed middle class? No. It's coming from Wall Street. Same place Republicans get their campaign money."
"Money's the only politics Wall Street knows."
"Exactly-and they're sure as hell not going to bet a billion dollars on another Texas governor." He blew out a breath. "Look, Bode, you've got a good thing going here-governor-for-life. Don't fuck it up."
"Why aren't the Republican bundlers in play yet? Why haven't the fundraisers committed to a candidate? Because they're all losers. We need a winner."
"You?"
Bode stopped pacing and pointed a finger at the ceiling. Jim Bob looked up.
"What?"
"Not what," Bode said. "One. All I need is one big play."
"One big play?"
"Every game I ever played in-won or lost-turned on one big play. A long run, a pass, a fumble, an interception… a game changer. One big play, Jim Bob, that's all I need to be president."
"Bode, to put another Texan in the White House, it'd have to be the biggest Hail Mary in the history of politics."
"It could happen. I could win. I've got the game to play in the big leagues, Jim Bob. I just need one big play to get in the game."
Jim Bob shook his head and sighed.
"Higher office and younger women-the ambitions of a politician."
Before Bode could defend himself, there was a loud knock on the door, and Jim Bob jumped.
"Might want to try decaf," Bode said.
Jim Bob was always a little jumpy, as if worried someone might sneak up behind him and put him in a headlock like the cowboys in Comfort used to do to him in the middle-school restroom, until Bode took him under his wing. From that day, Jim Bob Burnet had pledged his undying loyalty to Bode Bonner. Another knock, and the door swung open on Jim Bob's new young assistant. He waved her in. She walked over and handed a stack of papers to Jim Bob. But she smiled at Bode.
"Mornin', Governor," she said in a syrupy Southern drawl.
Her perfume drifted over and incited Bode's male hormones the same as waving a red flag at a bull. Bode's eyes involuntarily dropped from her face to her body and then slowly worked their way down to her feet and back up to her face. When their eyes again met, she winked. Damn, she was a frisky gal-whose name he couldn't recall.
"Morning, uh…"
"Jolene… Jo."
"Jolene. Sounds like a country song."
She gave him a coy smile.
" 'Cause I'm a country girl."
"Are you now?"
Bode caught Jim Bob rolling his eyes.
"That'll be all, Jo," he said.
Jolene sashayed out in her tight pants and high heels. Jim Bob shook his head.
"You're a goddamn rooster in a hen house."
He put the stack of papers on the desk then slid the top document across to Bode. He sat behind the desk and grabbed his signing pen.
"What's this?"
"You're appointing Joe Jack Munger to the UT Board of Regents."
"Munger?"
"Oilman out in Midland, went to UT."
"He know anything about education?"
"He knows how to write a big check to your reelection campaign. Two hundred grand."
Bode signed the appointment, one of the few powers of the office. The University of Texas had always been run by the governor's cronies and contributors, more like a real-estate venture than a university. Jim Bob pushed another document across the desk.
"Proclamation."
"Proclaiming what?"
"A day of prayer for rain."
"Damn drought. How are we doing on those wildfires out west?"
"Out of control."
"Half of Texas is burning, and Obama won't declare those counties disaster areas so those folks can get federal funds to rebuild. Blue state fucking hiccups, he sends in billions. Red state, he lets us die in a drought."
"It's called politics."
He signed the proclamation.
"Next document."
Bode read the title: "Deed?"
"The land deal. With Hoot Pickens."
"You run this by the lawyers?"
Jim Bob nodded. "It's legal. And profitable. Half a million bucks. We put it in your blind trust, gives us deniability."
Bode signed the deed. Jim Bob gathered the papers then checked his watch and stood.
"Come on, we're late."
"For what?"
"Elementary school."
Bode groaned. "Aw, damn, Jim Bob-not reading to kindergartners again? I hate that shit."
Jim Bob offered a lame shrug.
"You made education a major part of your platform-faith, family, and schools."
"Just because Lindsay wanted something to do. Why can't she read to them?"
"She was supposed to, but I had to send her down to the border-Delgado's in from Washington. They're trying to get the Mexicans in the colonias counted for the census."
"Why?"
"So Texas can get more seats in Congress. We've got thirty-two seats now. If we can get all those Mexicans counted, we can pick up three or four more seats. And once I'm through redistricting the state, every one of those seats will be Republican."
"No-why'd you send Lindsay down to the border? Why couldn't I go?"
"Because you don't speak Spanish. She does."
THREE
" No teman el censo. "
"Yes, Mrs. Bonner," Congressman Delgado said. " 'Do not fear the census.' That is our message this day."
Two hundred thirty-five miles south of the Governor's Mansion and two blocks north of the Rio Grande, the governor's wife stared out the tinted window of the black Suburban as their five-car caravan rolled around the San Agustin Plaza in downtown Laredo. She had flown in the night before and stayed at the La Posada Hotel on the plaza. She would fly back to Austin that afternoon. Up front, a state trooper drove, and her Texas Ranger bodyguard rode shotgun. She sat in the back seat with the congressman. His aftershave reminded Lindsay of her father when she was a little girl riding in his lap and pretending to steer the old Buick. Congressman Delgado pointed out the window at a white church with a tall clock tower.
"The San Agustin Cathedral," he said. "I was baptized there. And that is the old convent for the Ursuline Sisters, but the nuns are gone. And the Plaza Theatre, it is shuttered now, but I watched many cowboy movies there as a child. That was, of course, many years ago." He chuckled. "I was born in Laredo, but I am afraid I will die in Washington."
Ernesto Delgado had first been elected to Congress in 1966. He was seventy-eight now and had no thought of retiring.
"The plaza seems…"
"Dead?"
She nodded.
"Yes, it is March and our streets should be crowded with college students on spring break, staying in hotels on this side of the river and partying on the other side. Gin fizzes at the Cadillac Bar and pretty girls in Boys' Town-Nuevo Laredo once boasted the cheapest drinks and the best prostitutes on the border. It is legal in Mexico, prostitution."
A wistful expression crossed the congressman's creased face, as if he had experienced all that Nuevo Laredo had to offer in his younger days.
"Now the Cadillac Bar is closed, and Nuevo Laredo has only the drugs and violence to offer, so the DPS issues travel warnings. 'Avoid traveling to Mexico during spring break, and stay alive,' the one this year said. So the students, they go to Padre Island instead. And the streets of Laredo are empty."