Beauty Queen (15 page)

Matt planted his elbows on the table as the waitress delivered a glass of wine to Rebecca. How you doing? he said to the waitress, shooting what was obviously his trademark, I-wanna-get-Iucky smile at her. How about bourbon on the rocks?

Sure, she said, smiling for the first time since Rebecca had seen her. And behind her, Heather was smiling. Hell,

even Gunter was smiling a little. But Matt didnt notice he was looking at Rebecca. So he started.

Excuse me! Rebecca suddenly called, catching the waitress before she took Heathers and Gunters orders. One more, please? Wouldnt want to be caught with nothing to numb her into oblivion if he was going to stay very long, would she?

The man behind Matt was jostling him; Matt groaned, said to Rebecca, Meet Ben Townsend, my partner.

Beaming, Ben Townsend stuck out his hand, knocking Matt back out of the way as he did so.

Ah ... hi, Im Rebecca, she said, shaking his hand.

Hiii, he said, and angled himself so that he was standing between Matt and Rebecca. Only the room was packed, and he really couldnt do much but stand between them, smiling down at her. So ... Matt says youre new in town?

Ive been here a couple of months.

Great, great. Matt says youre doing fabulous work for Toms campaign.

No way! Rebecca leaned forward and peered around Bens thigh at Matt. He does?

With a roll of his eyes, Matt said, Actually, Ben, I hadnt mentioned it. Then to her, he said, Something you need to know about Townsend hes a blowhard from way back, and now he has to go prepare for a trial we cant afford to lose. Right, Ben?

Yeah, yeah, Ben said dismissively, without bothering to look at Matt, still grinning like a neon sign. Its a big profitable case. Not the kind Matts used to bringing in. But hey, it was really great meeting you, Rebecca.

Thanks, she said, wishing this partner had signed on to the campaign. A pleasure meeting you, too.

Ben turned up the wattage on his smile. You know, maybe we could get together sometime, and

Ben, the trial? Matt interrupted.

I guess thats my cue, Ben said laughing. Bye for now. He winked at Rebecca, then shot a frown at Matt as he walked away.

Hes nice, Rebecca said with a scowl for Matt.

No, hes not. Trust me, Matt said smugly, folding his arms on the table in front of him. So, what have we got here? Spending a little quality time with Tom?

Rebecca smiled sweetly and shrugged.

So? Whats going on? he asked, looking and sounding a little too impatient to suit her.

Oh, big doings, she said low, and with her finger, beckoned him closer. Matt leaned in, all ears. She glanced around, whispered, We got some new mouse pads for the computers todaytheyre Texas flags.

With a loud groan of exasperation, Matt sat up.

Parrish! Tom shouted from the other table. Did you meet our new media folks?

Heather was smiling pathetically at the back of Marts head, anxious for her introduction. God, did women drool over him like that all the time?

Media folks. Thats interesting, isnt it, Rebecca? Sounds like a meeting all campaign strategists would want to attend, he said. Well? Arent you going to introduce me?

Rebecca looked to Tom, but he was already back to the middle of some howling joke, being told, apparently, by yet another new arrival who had joined the group. This is Gunter Falk and Heather Hill. Matt, she said, is working on Toms campaign, too.

Ooh, really? Heather asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Yes. Really, Matt said with a wink that wound Frack up all over again So what are yall talking about here? he asked as someone else squeezed in next to Rebecca, jostling her, and pushing her into Matt, so that she was all but sitting on his lap, an extremely uncomfortable situation. And hard. Matt was hard. His body leg, arm, torso was solid as a rock. But the horrible thing about it was that she kind of liked that hard feel, liked it enough that she felt compelled to fortify herself with a nice big gulp of white wine.

Just trying to develop some good campaign jingles, Heather interjected before Gunter could open his mouth. Something we can turn into radio spots. You know,

attention getters, something really sweet that will click in the minds of listeners around the state and stick with them.

While Heather droned on and on about that, Rebecca noticed that Tom was glad-handing two more men who had stopped by to join the party. This was insanethey wanted to come up with campaign slogans in the middle of Toms happy hour party? Ah well, when in Rome ... and she was feeling a little warm and creative now. Rebecca picked up her glass of wine and said, Well, Masters seems pretty usable, as the two new guys found chairs and pulled them up to the table to join Tom.

Okay, said Gunter. Masters ... Masters ...

Rebecca was tempted to ask Einstein how much they were paying him, but said instead, Okay ... well, how about something like, Why settle for a bachelor when you can have a Masters?

Oh gawd, Big Pants groaned.

What? she protested.

Well, for starters, our opponent, Phil Harbaugh, has a PhD, he said, and dammit if Gunter didnt nod right along.

I meant, hes a bachelor, she said. Duh! All three of them looked at her blankly. Jesus, what did it take to get a glass of wine around here, anyway? Okay, well... what have you got? she asked Matt.

He pondered that for a moment. How about this ... Elect a Masters for the job.

Frick and Frack gasped at each other. Thats great! Heather cried.

Rebecca all but choked. That was great?

You think? Matt asked Heather, obviously pleased with himself.

Wait a minute, Rebecca said, calling on all her assertiveness training. How come his slogans okay and mines not?

No offense, but yours sounded cheesy, Heather said, smiling at Matt.

And his doesnt?

Nope. Mine was terrific, Matt responded without a hint of modesty.

Augh. Rebecca closed her eyes, suppressed a groan. Fortunately, the waitress reappeared in what was record time for her. Matt accepted the bourbon, chuckled quietly when the waitress put another glass of wine in front of Rebecca, and then winked as he tossed a ten onto the girls tray. The waitress fell over herself and Heathers hair trying to get his attention long enough to smile back at him.

So, Matt, weve been tossing around some ideas about where to get some shots of Tom for some TV spots. Any ideas? Heather asked, not wanting to relinquish his attention to the waitress. The waitress turned and bounced off.

Hmm. ... Rebecca, do you have any Save Bambi meetings lined up? Maybe we could get some shots of Tom nursing a Bambi, then releasing him to the wilds. What do you think?

Shut up, she murmured (and what a witty comeback that was), then visualized twisting his arm around his back and flipping him out the window. Okay, that was funny visualizing, she was learning, was fun. And one other thing, she thought as she picked up her fresh glass of wineshe had sorely underestimated a good Chablis. Or Chardon-nay. Whatever.

Just kidding, Matt said for the benefit of Frick and Frack, who, between the two of them, had about as much sense of humor as oh, say, the ashtray on the table. What about the Silver Panthers?

Yeah, we covered that, Gunter said. Matt nodded, thought a minute longer. There are some important bills coming up for a vote; we could give you a call a couple of days ahead of time and you could get some shots of him in a legislative setting. There is a candidate debate next month in front of the state conference of the League of Women Voters . .. that usually draws a huge crowd. Hows that for getting started?

Either Gunters martini was better than he was letting on, or he had finally found his reason for living. This is great! he said, nodding furiously and slapping the table.

which drew the attention of the five men and two women who were now sitting around three tables Tom had daisy-chained together. That is exactly the sort of thing we need! He paused long enough to look at his watch. Listen, we need to split if were going to catch our plane. He stood up. Well call early next week to set these things up. Dont worry about the tab. Weve got it, Gunter said, and started slinking off toward Toms end of the tables.

Thanks! Matt said, and smiled as Heather came to her feet much more reluctantly.

Well, it was nice meeting you, she said, smiling at Matt. Im sure well be seeing you around.

Right, Matt said.

Well... okay. Later. Heather tore her gaze away from Matt the Stud and looked at Rebecca. Later.

Yeah, later. Way later. Maybe so later that its never, how about that? Bye-bye now! she called after Heather. Next to her, Big Pants chuckled. She took another drink as Heather disappeared into the crowd, tried to ignore him, and when she couldnt do that, forced herself to focus on him. What?

You.

What? What did I do?

Youre surprisingly ... interesting, you know that? Not all uptight like I originally thought.

Uptight? she all but shouted at him.

Thats what I said, he said with a chuckle. I had you pegged as a little too uptight for your own good. But now I see youre much more than that. I mean, either youre accusing people of stealing your quesadilla, or lining up your pencils, or having secret meetings. Id call that pretty feisty, wouldnt you?

Whats that, your best line? I am not feisty.

Feisty is not a line, Matt said pleasantly. Its an observation.

Crap, had she actually said that out loud? Wow ... she was going to have to be more careful with her thoughts. And visualizations, because she really couldnt look at him without visualizing ... yikes. Definitely didnt want to go

there, she thought fuzzily, stealing a glimpse of his hand. Rebecca looked at her wineglass(es). And was duly alarmed by how many empty ones there were carefully arranged in front of her, all lined up like little soldiers. Where had all those come from?

And furthermore, for the record, if it was a line, I wouldnt waste it on you, Miss Priss.

Why not? she demanded, strangely incensed, then before he could answer, blurted, Well, if you tried a line on me, Id just laugh. Ha. Haaaa. She slapped her wineglass down, and felt, all of a sudden, warm and very mushy inside. Not good mushysick mushy.

Matt was looking at the pile of empty glasses in front of her. So tell me ... are those all your wineglasses? Or did you just walk around the room and take them?

That did it. Indignant, she glared at him. I. Dont. Know.

Matt laughed; the sound of it gained the attention of the men on the other end of the table, including Tom, who waved at Rebecca. At least she thought he did; she looked over her shoulder and didnt see anyone else she knew, other than the waitress. At last! She held up one finger and could have sworn the waitress rolled her eyes.

When she looked around again, Toms big flaccid face was looming in front of her. Hey, let me ask you something, Rebecca, he said, bracing himself against the table. I got a friend over there. Fred Davis is his name. Owns KTXT television.

Big fat deal. How nice for him! she exclaimed, plastering a smile on her face.

Hed really like to come over and say hi. You know . . . maybe see what you are doing later?

Later?

Yeah, later. You know. He winked, ignored Matts groan. Like maybe yall could get a drink or something. Later.

Rebecca blinked. Tom smiled. Dear God, was he... Tom! Are you setting me up?

Tom shrugged, looked over his shoulder. She peeked

around him, saw Fred and a very oily smile that sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. Come on, Rebecca. Youre divorced, and theres no evidence of any guy hanging around. Hey, Im just doing a pal a favor, thats all.

Sorry, Tom, youre too late, Matt said cheerfully.

Both Tom and Rebecca looked at him and said, at the same moment, Huh?

Matt stretched his arm across the back of Rebeccas chair, which she was half tempted to kick, but that didnt seem feasible with Tom looming over her. Matt leaned slightly forward, so he was just inches from Tom, and whispered, Rebecca is having dinner with me.

The bark of hiccupped laughter Rebecca heard, she realized, was hers.

He had in mind to take her to Stetsons, where else? Nothing like a half pound of good, quality beef to sober up a skinny, wacko woman.

Naturally, they werent going anywhere without some wrangling, because, not surprisingly, Miss High and Mighty wasnt in the mood to dine with him. Actually, she wasnt in the mood to dine at all, and seemed rather intent on drinking her way through the evening, while at the very same time proclaiming, emphatically, that she didnt drink. Riiiiight.

There was, Matt supposed, a gentleman buried somewhere in him, because he could not sit there and look at such a beautiful lush and leave her for the likes of Fred Davis. Nor could he possibly allow her to drive anywhere, so he figured that he was honor-bound to see her safely somewhere.

Where do you live? he asked her, once he had managed to send Tom tottering away with the bad news for Fred.

Ruby Falls, she said, leaning over so far that she almost tipped out of her seat.

Shit. Thats way the hell out there.

Forty-five minutes driving eighty miles an hour, she stoically informed him.

He didnt even want to think about her driving on those curving hill country roads. Where is your son? he asked.

In South Padre with his dad! she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the arm as if he somehow should have known that.

Any family or friends in town?

Nope.

An apartment?

Uh-uh, she said, giggling as if they were playing a game.

Is there anywhere I could take you?

She thought about that a moment, tapping a manicured nail against a full bottom lip. Nope, she said at last.

Then youll just have to go with me, he sighed.

Rebecca snorted like a dock worker at that suggestion. NO. I know why you want me to go with you, and Im not interested, she said haughtily.