Mirror Image
“There was no place else to meet,” Eddy said.
“The hell there wasn’t, Eddy,” he shouted, rounding on his friend, who had dared to intervene. “This hotel has several hundred rooms. But since you’re already here,” he said, picking up the sheets of paper he’d tossed down on the dresser, “I’d like to know what the hell this is supposed to signify?”
Ralph leaned over and read a few lines. “That’s your position on the new education bill.”
“Like hell it is. This is bullshit. That’s what this is.” He slapped the sheet of paper with the back of his hand. “Whitewashed, watered down, wishy-washy bullshit.”
Zee left her chair. “I’ll take Mandy into the other room to watch TV.” She led the child away by the hand.
“I have to go potty, Grandma.”
“Okay, darling. Fancy, you might want to come with us.”
“Hell, no. I wouldn’t budge for ten million bucks,” she said from her position in the middle of the bed. She opened a fresh stick of Juicy Fruit and added it to the one already in her mouth.
When the door had been closed behind Zee and Mandy, Ralph ventured forth with a conciliatory explanation. “We simply felt, Tate, that your position on some of the campaign issues should be softened.”
“Without consulting me?” Tate demanded, bearing down on the much shorter man. “It’s my position,” he said, thumping his chest. “My position.”
“You’re trailing in the polls,” the man pointed out reasonably.
“I was doing that before you were retained to advise me. I’ve sunk lower since then.”
“Because you haven’t been taking our advice.”
“Uh-uh,” Tate said, stubbornly shaking his head. “I think it’s because I’ve been taking too much of it.”
Eddy stood up. “What are you implying, Tate?”
“Not a damn thing. I’m outright stating that I don’t need anybody to pick out my shirts and suits or hire my barbers. I’m saying that I don’t want anybody to put words in my mouth. I’m saying that I don’t want anybody softening my position until it’s so soft that even I don’t recognize it. The people who have pledged their votes to me on the basis of those positions would think I’d gone crazy. Or worse, that I had betrayed them.”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
Tate confronted his brother. “It’s not your hair they’re trying to cut, Jack,” he said heatedly.
“But it might just as well be,” he fired back. “I’m in this as much as you are.”
“Then you should know how important it is to me that I’m my own man.”
“You are,” Eddy said.
“The hell I am! What’s wrong with the way I dress?” He gestured down to the clothes he’d worn to breakfast. “Do you really think it matters to those workers out at GD what color shirt I have on? Hell, no! They want to know if I’m for a strong defense program or for cutting the defense budget because my Senate vote may determine whether or not they’ll have jobs for the next several years.”
He paused to draw a breath and plowed his hand through his hair, which, Avery was glad to see, the barber hadn’t gotten too much of. “Look, guys, this is me.” He held his arms out perpendicular to his body. “This is the ticket. This is how I originally went to the Texas voters. Change me and they won’t recognize me.”
“We don’t want to change you, Tate,” Dirk said expansively. “Only make you better.”
He clapped Tate on the shoulder. Tate shrugged off his hand. “Gentlemen, I’d like to speak to my family in private, please.”
“If there’s something to discuss—”
Tate held up his hand to ward off their objections. “Please.” They moved toward the door reluctantly. Dirk shot Eddy a telling glance before they went out.
“Carole, would you pour me a cup of that coffee, please?”
“Certainly.” As she rose to do so, Tate dropped into an easy chair. She brought the requested cup of coffee and sat down on the upholstered arm of his chair. Tate took the coffee with one hand and casually draped his other over her knee.
Eddy said, “Well, that was quite a speech.”