The Governor's Wife (39 page)

"Tough sell today."

"We're sending eight hundred billion dollars every year to the Middle East for their oil, money to Muslims who want to destroy America. Would you rather drill at home or get killed at home?"

"Done," the Professor said. "But we need more from you."

"More than fifty million?"

"We need some help on gas prices."

"We're not gonna lower gas prices!"

"I don't want you to lower them. I want you to raise them."

"Raise them? Why?"

"Because the governor's got to balance the state budget during the next legislative session, and the press is going to beat us up once it gets out that we're looking at a twenty-seven-billion deficit and demand we raise taxes."

A smile.

"I understand."

Bode didn't.

"What are you talking about, Jim Bob?"

"Higher gas prices at the pump mean higher gasoline taxes and severance taxes. Bode, we jack up the prices enough, we can balance the state budget on oil alone."

"So what price did you have in mind?" the CEO said.

"Five bucks a gallon would be nice."

"We can do that."

"Five bucks?" Bode said. "Folks won't be able to fill up their pickups."

The CEO chuckled. "One thing we learned, Governor—people will pay any price to fill up their SUVs and pickup trucks."

"How are you going to justify five bucks a gallon?"

The CEO rubbed his chin and grunted.

"Well, we can't use the 'tight world supplies' line this time—we used that back in the summer of oh-eight." He grinned. "World was awash in oil, but we raised prices to four bucks a gallon and consumption didn't drop a barrel. Press picked up on the shortage line and ran with it. Public bought it. Records profits that year."

He paused and sighed. A wistful look came over his face.

"Boy, that was a fun summer."

Jim Bob cleared his throat to get the CEO's attention back to the present.

"Okay, so let's see …" His expression showed that his mind was scheming. He suddenly snapped his fingers. "I got it. You're gonna love this. We'll jack up the prices and say, 'Demand is increasing because the economy is improving, so higher gas prices are actually good for America.' "

"That's bullshit," Bode said. "The economy sucks."

"So? The people are desperate for the economy to improve, Governor, so we'll tell them what they want to hear. Doesn't have to be true. You're a politician, you know that." He smiled. "Hell, time we're through, the people will actually be happy to pay five bucks a gallon."

"You guys are good," Jim Bob said.

"We've been at this game a long time."

And so the night went. Before last call at the bar was announced over the public address system, Jim Bob Burnet had locked in $650 million in pledges to the Super PAC. He gestured at the vast hall.

"Two weeks ago, these people wouldn't have given you the time of day. Now they're lining up to write you a check for fifty million. Because you killed a few Mexicans."

It was Friday night, but not movie night. Jesse and Lindsay had worked late at the clinic then stopped at Luis Escalera's café for dinner. On their way home, they picked up the mail at the post office. Jesse went inside and returned with a handful of letters, which he handed to her.

"What's all this?"

"Open them."

She opened the first letter. There was a check inside for ten dollars made out to Jesse Rincón, M.D. She opened another; inside was a check for twenty-five dollars. The next was a check for fifteen dollars.

"They're all checks," she said. "From San Antonio."

"That profile must have aired. We always get checks after an interview or article runs. Perhaps there will be enough money to buy a fetal monitor."

They stopped off at the market then drove home. The phone was ringing when they walked into the kitchen with the groceries. Jesse answered.

"Jesse Rincón."

"Doctor. This is Jorge Gutiérrez. I am the mayor of San Antonio. I have been calling you all week."

"There is no phone service in the
colonia
where I work."

"Ah. Well, I have you now. Doctor, I would like to meet with you."

"About what?"

"Being the first Latino governor in the history of Texas."

"You want to run for governor?"

"No. I want you to run."

Jesse laughed. "I am sorry, Mayor. I am a doctor, not a politician."

"Oh, you are much more than a doctor, Jesse … May I call you Jesse?"

"Yes, of course."

"Please call me Jorge. Jesse, I have read all the articles about you, in the border newspapers and in the Houston paper. And I saw the profile this past Sunday on the San Antonio television station."

"Checks came in the mail today."

"I can make many more checks come in the mail, Jesse."

"How can you do that?"

"By spreading the word among my Mexican Mafia."

"Your what?"

"My network of Hispanics in business, law, the media … Hispanics who want to help. Jesse, you could do much good for Latinos in Texas."

"I am doing good for Latinos right here."

"You could do more good in Austin. In the Governor's Mansion. Jesse, you could be the one."

"The one what?"

"The one who leads Latinos to power in Texas.
El salvador
."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Mayor, but I am neither a politician nor a savior. I am just a doctor."

"We've been waiting a long time for our savior."

"I am afraid you must wait a while longer."

"Jesse, you are the only man who can save America from Bode Bonner."

The governor of Texas flew back to Austin late that night. They dropped Jim Bob off at his downtown condo then drove to the Mansion. Bode climbed the stairs to the family quarters and entered the master bedroom. Mandy Morgan lay asleep on the bed. In a camo cami with matching thong. She was young, and she was beautiful, and she was sexy. He felt young.

Alive.

Vital.

Relevant.

But not because of Mandy. Because the great adventure was upon him. Because he was the man who would be president. Because he had the polls, the Twitter followers, the Super PAC, and the testosterone to win the White House. Because he had everything.

Except a first lady.

"Mayor Gutiérrez wants you to run for governor?"

Lindsay had overhead Jesse's conversation.

"That is what he said."

They were sitting on the back porch overlooking the river. The stars were out, and the night was quiet.

"But that would be a conflict of interest," he said.

"What?"

"Running for governor while loving the governor's wife."

"Are you?"

"No. I will not run."

"No. In love with me?"

"Yes. I am."

He reached over and took her hand. Maybe it was the wine she had had with dinner, but she did not pull away. She held the doctor's hand and thought of her husband. He wanted to be president; a president needed a first lady. She wanted to be a nurse; a nurse needed a doctor. She felt herself drawn to Jesse Rincón—but as a doctor or a man? Or both?

Lindsay Bonner was not a complicated woman. She had never had issues. She had always known who she was and what she wanted.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

"General Zaragoza defeated Napoleon's forces at Puebla on May the fifth, eighteen-sixty-two," Jesse said, "and brought democracy back to Mexico. That is what the Mexican people celebrate on this day,
Cinco de Mayo
."

They stood before the general's statue in the San Agustín Plaza in downtown Laredo. Palm trees surrounded the plaza, as if they were the general's sentries. Street vendors sold Mexican food and margaritas, beer and bottled water. Mariachis strolled the plaza singing Mexican ballads, and Mexican flags flew from every light pole and storefront. Girls clad in old-style costumes performed traditional dances. The plaza looked and sounded and smelled like old
México
. Lindsay and Jesse had gone into town for lunch at the
Cinco de Mayo
festival. The local newspaper and television station had cameras capturing the crowd. Lindsay wore her scarf, hat, and sunglasses to avoid being recognized. But everyone recognized Jesse Rincón. Young girls flirted with him and asked for photos with him, and old men came to him and shook his hand. He had been interviewed on camera twice when a young man stuck a hand out to him.

"Doctor. Ángel Salinas from Austin. With
Texas Journal
. Mayor Gutiérrez said I should come to Laredo and interview you."

Lindsay quickly averted her face. She knew Ángel, and he knew her. She walked to the far side of the plaza where the girls were dancing. Where her picture would not be taken and she would not be recognized.

"
Mrs. Bonner?
"

She turned to the familiar voice—to Congressman Ernesto Delgado. He held a long
churro
like a kid holding a popsicle. His face evidenced his astonishment.

"Is that really you?"

"Yes. It's me."

"What … what are you doing here? Dressed like that?"

"I'm Jesse's nurse."

"
No
."

"Yes. For a month now."

"I heard he had an Anglo nurse, but they said she was Irish."

"I am."

She demonstrated her accent.

"I would not have known it was you."

"No one can know. You mustn't tell a soul. Please."

"Your secret is safe with me. But why?"

"I need to be useful."

He gave her a knowing nod. "Ah, yes. At my age, I understand that need. But how will this work, when the governor is the president?"

"My daddy the president!"

Bode hugged his daughter and inhaled her fresh scent; she had showered (if not shaved) that day.

"You're like, a celebrity now."

"Hell, if I'd known shooting a few Mexicans was all it took, I'd've done it a long time ago. Jim Bob, how many followers I got on Twitter?"

Jim Bob fiddled with his phone.

"Eight million."

"Wow," Darcy said, "that's more than Selena Gomez!"

"I thought she died?"

"That was the singer. This is the actress."

"Oh."

Becca hugged him again.

"I'm so proud of you, Daddy."

She seemed as excited as on her sixteenth birthday when Bode had surprised her with a new Ford pickup truck. Darcy hugged him, then they sat at their regular table on the raised seating section at the front window at Kerbey's on the Drag. UT students walked past on the sidewalk just on the other side of the plate glass and waved at the governor of Texas—with all five fingers. Jim Bob sat at the adjacent table and played with his phone. Ranger Hank stood at attention behind them.

"How are the kids?" Becca said.

Becca and Darcy had come over to the Mansion and played with the Mexican children several times in the last month.

"Good. It's been fun to have kids around the Mansion again, like when you were growing up."

"How many are still with you?"

"Six. We found the others' relatives, but we've still got five of the boys and Josefina. The cartel killed her folks."

"What are you going to do with her?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't we keep her?"

"She's not a stray puppy, Becca. And without your mom here …"

Their waitress, a cute gal with tattooed arms and a nose ring, arrived to take their order. Bode went for the cinnamon peach pancakes. The girls went for salads.

"She still down on the border?"

Bode nodded. "I figured on waiting her out, that she'd get bored and come back. She hasn't."

"You know how she is when she's on a mission."

The waitress returned with their drinks. Becca emptied two sweeteners into her tea and stirred.

"She'll have to come back, Daddy, if you're elected president. Only problem is, if you guys are living in the White House, we won't be able to have lunch together."

"Sure we will. I'll just fly down every week."

"No, I mean, the Secret Service won't let you eat here, with this big window right on the street. Someone might shoot you."

"Well, no need to worry about that now."

Becca laughed. "Yeah, who would want to shoot the governor of Texas?"

She dropped her teaspoon.

Ranger Hank heard the spoon hit the floor and watched the governor and his daughter duck under the table at the same time to retrieve it, but his attention was diverted by a cute coed with long legs in a short skirt off to his left; he glanced her way just in time to catch a shot of her neon pink underwear as she sat down. Damn, that's a sweet
femále
. He turned back just as a black SUV skidded to a stop on Guadalupe Street directly in front of their window and two men jumped out and pointed high-powered automatic weapons at them. His right hand went for his gun, but he was too late. The first bullet hit him in his right eye, shattering his sunglasses and the back of his skull after boring a hole through his brain. He was dead before the next six bullets hit his body and his body hit the floor.