Beauty Queen (12 page)

At the moment, its your problem, he said, and started walking toward her.

Robin laughed, fell back onto the couch with a bounce. Bring it on, big guy, she said, and laughed again when Jake jumped on top of her.

Grandpa! Why the hell hadnt she thought of that?

Rebecca pressed a hand to her cheek. God, she really needed to chill out. This was no big deal; a minor setback, nothing more. She had the Elks lodge lined up, the use of their charity bingo equipment, and she had even finagled the refreshments for a pittance. All she needed was a list of conference attendees to send invitations to and shed be home free. That wasnt an impossible task; it was just a matter of finding the right person.

Unqualified Applicant Rule 9: The glass is always half full.

Rebecca picked up the phone and called her grandparents.

Hel-LO-oh! Lil Stanton trilled loudly when she picked up.

Hi, Grandma. Its Rebecca.

Becky! Grandma cried. Ooh, hows my adorable precious little boo-boo of a great-grandson?

Hes great. Hes taking a nap right now.

You mean I dont get to talk to him? she exclaimed, clearly disappointed.

Sorry, Grandma next time, okay?

Oh honey, are you looking for your mother, too? Aaron called here this afternoon just dying to talk to her. You know how he is, one minute hes so sweet, then the next minute hes about as ornery as

Actually, she said, carefully interrupting Grandma, who had a tendency to go off on tangents, I was calling to ask Grandpa an important question. Is he home?

Well, good night, where else would he be? Grandma snorted. Jake wont let him on the job site anymore since

he took down all the trim the boys had just put up on the last job. I swear, you cannot let that man out of your sight for even a min

Could I please speak to him, Grandma? Rebecca asked sweetly.

Well of course you can, sweetheart. You just wait one minute.

Grandma put the phone down on the phone table and bellowed, Elmer! Your granddaughter wants a word with you! A moment passed, then another, before Grandma shouted, I SAY-YED, YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER WANTS A WOOOORD WITH YOU!!

A moment later. Grandpa picked up in another part of the house. Robbie-girl?

No, Grandpa, its Rebecca.

Becky! Hows my sweet girl?

Im doing great. Grandpa, But Im working on a little project, and I need your help.

Ill do what I can, honey just a minute, he said, and put his hand over the receiver. That did not, however, muffle the sound of his shouting. LIL! Hang up the gosh-dern phone!

Grandma picked up the phone. You take care, sweetie, and you give my sweet Graybie-baby a big hug from Grandma Lil.

I will, she promised.

So what do you need, Becky? Grandpa asked as Grandma hung up.

Grandpa, have you ever heard of the Silver Panthers?

Heard of em? Why, I practically invented em! Grandpa cheerfully claimed, and launched into a long, extremely circuitous tale of how exactly he had invented them, during the course of which Rebecca had to remind him twice what he was talking about (Grandpa liked to talk). But from his discourse, Rebecca gathered he had been a member of the Silver Panthers at some point in time, and at the end of his lengthy little tale, when Rebecca could get a word in edgewise and could tell him what she

needed, he snapped his fingers. Piece of cake, he said, and told her hed have that list of attendees by Monday or there would be some butt kicking across Texas.

Rebecca visualized him doing just that in his enormous white Easy Spirits, and thanked him profusely.

Later that afternoon, when she and Grayson wandered down to the bank of the river her to sit in her Adirondack and chill out with a margarita courtesy of Jo Lynn, and Grayson to throw a stick in the river so that the dogs could refuse to go in after it, Rebecca closed her eyes and dreamily imagined the look on Big Pants Popinjays face when she announced at the next campaign meeting that a little fund-raising with the Q-tips was not only doable, but on.

That night, when she had at last turned out the light (having read the first half of Please Understand Me Character and Temperament Types), she lay there for a very long time staring into the dark, thinking about what Robin had said ... the part about needing to get laid.

In Austin, Matt having thoughts of Rebecca, too there was definitely a love-hate thing going on there, for sure. At least he had figured out the root of his problem with her: She reminded him of Tanya Kwitokowsky, a vicious, mean-spirited Nazi commando and his archenemy in the second grade.

Yep, back then, he was always standing in the corner for some alleged but totally unfounded schoolhouse infraction, and Tanya was sitting in the front row. directly in front of Mrs. Keller, her papers nice and neatly arranged, her fat pencils carefully lined up and awaiting the next assignment. She had been the most infuriating teachers pet he would ever know in his many years of schooling a girl who was quick to point out when he was doing something wrong and beamed like sunshine when he was sent to the corner. And the most infuriating thing of all? He had wanted nothing more, even at that tender age, than to look up her skirt.

Same as he wanted to look up Rebeccas skirt in a major way.

Which made the fact that she really had no business on this campaign (with the exception of patriotic office decorations) all the more exasperating. Nothing against Rebecca she was charming in a not-of-this-earth way. And she wasnt stupid or anything like that Matt suspected she was stupid like a fox, really. And okay, he did marvel at how prepared she seemed to be for the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants gig this campaign had a tendency to be.

But she was ridiculously uninformed. About everything. It really was like she had just landed here from another planet. At least, he thought wryly, if she was an alien, that would explain a few things. However the most annoying thing about Rebecca Lear was that he couldnt figure out why he was thinking of her all the goddamn time.

Not that he didnt appreciate the package hed have to have a bona fide case of numb nuts if he didnt. Hers was actually a pretty astounding case of beauty, the sort that made a man wonder why the hell she wasnt in Hollywood instead of hanging around a boring state campaign.

Honestly, he was sick of thinking about it, didnt want to think about it anymore, and as the weekend was upon him, he let thoughts of the alien beauty queen evaporate in the whirl of activities, beginning with his Friday night date with Debbie Seaforth, one of the countys top prosecutors. When he took her home, she invited him in, even though it was only their second date. But he was a guy, and when a woman offered, what the hell? Matt left Saturday morning after naked pancakes, rushed by his loft to change and get rid of the electric green condoms she had stuffed in his pocket on his way to a golf date with Judge Halliburton.

After golf, it was off to Lake Travis, where he met up with Bens brother Alan, a self-styled entrepreneur who was having another party on his houseboat. How Alan, a forty-year-old, could know so many luscious university students was something of a mystery to Matt, but who was he to question it? Even though at the age of thirty-six he tended to think of them as kids, he liked their (barely bikini) company.

On Sunday, it was the obligatory monthly dinner at his

parents house in nearby Dripping Springs. This Sunday, Dad was barbecuing for the famsister Bella and her husband, Bill, and their six-month-old daughter, Cameron; and Marts two younger brothers, Mark and his wife, Nancy. and Danny, whose fiancee, Karen, was missing in action for the evening.

In the course of his work, Matt saw a lot of family dysfunction that could fry his brain if he let it, so he considered himself fortunate to have one of those families where everyone genuinely got along and enjoyed one anothers company. The only drawback (and this a fairly recent one) was that Mom was in her sixties now and was beginning to harp on Mark and Danny about grandkids. Your father and I arent getting any younger, you know, she lectured them. But Matt, the oldest, had had much tougher opponents than Mom, and when she brought up the subject with him, hed kiss her on the cheek and say, Have another glass of wine. Mom. It will take the edge off. That one was always guaranteed to draw a snort of laughter from Dad.

And Mom was a good sport. She chalked up his remarks to her stated belief that her oldest son was not the settling down type (Matt wasnt sure if that was true, really, but he honestly just hadnt met The One).

That evening, the conversation was pleasantly unguarded and focused on Dannys upcoming nuptials (nine bridesmaids, poor sap). By the time Matt turned in late Sunday evening, he had successfully put Looney Tunes Rebecca oui of his mind.

Monday was quiet. Tuesday morning, he appeared in court for a hearing. As the docket was called, he and the opposing counsel. Ricardo Ruiz, who happened to be a basketball buddy of his, were waiting in the corridor when another prosecutor and ex-girlfriend, Melissa Samuelson, went sailing by, pausing briefly to sneer at Matt.

Ricardo looked at Matt; Matt shrugged. Wassup are you working your way through the roster? he asked, laughing.

Yeah, right Ive almost made it through the Rs Matt said with a wink.

Ricardo, being the jovial type, laughed appreciatively, then asked Matt if the rumors were true.

Still thinking of female prosecutors, Matt asked with a devilish grin, Which rumors?

District attorney. Everyone was talking about it at the bar association meeting last night.

That surprised the hell out of himthere had been talk of it around the party bigwigs, but he hadnt breathed a word to anyone, not even his father, the retired U.S. Court of Appeals Judge Winston Parrish.

So? pressed Ricardo, grinning. You gonna be our next DA? You know Hilliard is on her last legs, he added, stating what everyone knew to be true of the current DA.

Oh man, is that going around? Matt asked, trying to laugh it off with a shake of his head. Its just a rumor dont believe everything you hear.

Judging by the way Ricardo clapped Matt on the shoulder and laughed like they had a little secret, it was obvious he didnt believe what he was hearing at that very moment.

Still, Matt blew it off. Austin was a small town in some respects, and around the courthouse, rumors like that took on a life of their own. Shit, by the end of the week, he and Debbie Seaforth would be getting married. But when they resumed the hearing (and Matts request for a summary judgment was denied), the sparkle had not quite left Ricardos eye. See you in court, he said with a wink, and strutted out.

That afternoon, Doug Balinger, the Democratic Big Cheese from Stetsons, called to tell Matt that some of their early work was getting good press around the state. Its nothing short of a miracle, after what Tom said about that insurance bill, Doug remarked.

Matt knew exactly what he was talking about. Last week, Tom had made an off-the-cuff remark about uninsured people, which had, unfortunately, come across like a rich white guy dissing the poor. Matt had worked an entire afternoon on damage control, and fortunately, as a result of his efforts, it had turned up as nothing more than a blip in the papers. But Doug was concerned and rightly so, in

Matts opinionthat slips like that would come back to haunt Tom as the election grew nearer.

He needs to firm up his platform on health care and insurance. Hes too dangerous when he just shoots from the hip, Matt said.

Were working with him, Doug assured him. Just be patient. In the meantime, let me tell you what weve talked about, he said, and proceeded to give Matt a rundown of the platform issues.

When at last Matt hung up, he glanced at the clock he was going to be late for the campaign meeting, and debated going. But they had started up the phone bank, which interested him, and supposedly, they had begun the roll-out of thousands of yard signs across the state.

And there was one other little reason for goingto learn the status of his wager.

Matt buzzed Harold, who almost instantaneously appeared at Matts door. He strode through, his hand extended for the files Matt was holding. Pass these on to staff, will you? And I need this brief finished by the end of the week.

Harold took the files, cocked his head to one side. If you dont mind me saying, sir, you look exhausted, he opined. You might want to try a cucumber press for your eyes, he added as he pivoted sharply. If that doesnt work, do what the pageant contestants do and try a little hemorrhoid cream under the eyes to take the puffiness out.

Matt raised his head as Harold swished across the office. Youre kidding, he said flatly.

Of course Im not.

But thats disgusting!

Perhaps. But it works! Harold sang as he sailed out the door.

Sometimes, Matt thought Ben was right Harold would be better off in a salon somewhere doing mud facials on fat old ladies. But then again, Harold was the best legal secretary ever, and they had certainly been through enough of them to know. While Matt sort of shivered with revulsion each time Harold dropped one of his beauty tips

(what he and Ben affectionately termed H-bombs, the annals to which the cucumber eye thing and the hemor-rhoid cream would definitely be added), he could not get around the fact that the man was so excellent at his job. But hemorrhoid cream ?

Still shaking his head, Matt gathered up his things, loosened his tie, and left, headed for the campaign offices.

On his way over, he got caught in a little traffic and tuned in the radio to catch some news. If you want the best value for your money, then bring any deal over to Reynolds Cadillac and Chevrolet and well meet it or beat it! Were right here on the motor mile ...

Damn ads. Was it his imagination, or did they pump the volume up on those things? He punched to an AM station. Reynolds Cadillac and Chevrolet cannot be beat! Well meet or beat any deal you find in Texas . . .

He switched to a jazz CD.

Traffic was moving at a snails pace; a wreck or something ahead had mucked up the works, so Matt veered off. took the neighborhood route. Only when he turned down a well-traveled side street in West Austin a notoriously political side street he noticed several of Toms yard signs (Vote for Tom Masters . . . now there was a brilliantly snappy little slogan) were stuck up against the houses and complexes. Stuck up so close that he literally had to turn his head away from the road to see them. Goddammit, sometimes it seemed if he didnt do it, it didnt get done or get done right. Matt pulled over into an apartment parking lot, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and fished in his trunk for something to pound with, found a golf club, and jogged up the street, pausing in each of the twelve yards to pull up the signs and put them out by the street where they would be seen. Facing oncoming traffic. Who could not know that?