Mirror Image

man was insufferable. Avery wanted to slap the phony, ingratiating smile off his dour face. She looked at Tate. Ignoring the campaign expert, he told her, “I guess you’d better stick around.”
    Jack hung up the phone. “All set. Tate’s got a live interview on channel five at five o’clock. We need to have him there no later than four-thirty.”
    “Great,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together. “Any word from the Dallas stations?”
    “I’ve got calls in.”
    Someone knocked on the door. It was Nelson and Zee. A man, a stranger to Avery, was with them. Fancy bounded off the bed and embraced her grandparents in turn. Since her arrival in Fort Worth, her mood had been effervescent.
    “Good morning, Fancy.” Zee cast a disapproving glance at Fancy’s denim miniskirt and red cowboy boots, but said nothing.
    “Who’s he?” Tate asked, nodding at the man lingering on the threshold.
    “The barber we sent for.” Dirk stepped forward and pulled the dazed man into the room. “Sit down, Tate, and let him get started. He can clip while we talk. Something conservative,” he told the barber, who whisked a blue-and-white-striped drape around Tate’s neck and took a comb to his hair.
    “Here,” Ralph said, shoving a sheaf of papers beneath Tate’s nose. “Glance over these.”
    “What are they?”
    “Your speeches for today.”
    “I’ve already written my speeches.” No one listened to or acknowledged him.
    The phone rang. Jack answered. “Channel four,” he excitedly informed them, covering the mouthpiece.
    “Zee, Nelson, find seats, please, and let’s get down to business. The morning’s getting away.” In his element, Dirk took the floor. “As Eddy has said, we had a terrific turnout at Billy Bob’s last night and raised a lot of campaign dollars. God knows we need them. Once momentum subsides, supporters stop contributing.”
    “Even though we’re currently behind by a substantial margin, we don’t want it to look like we’re giving up,” Ralph said as he bounced the coins in his pocket.
    “The people at channel four said they’d be at General Dynamics to get a sound bite of Tate’s speech, but that’s all they’ll promise,” Jack reported as he hung up the phone.
    Dirk nodded. “Not great, but better than nothing.”
    “See, Tate,” Ralph said, continuing as though the second conversation weren’t going on, “even if you lose, you don’t want it to look like you gave up.”
    “I’m not going to lose.” He glanced at Avery and winked.
    “Well, no, of course not,” Ralph stammered, laughing uncomfortably. “I only meant—”
    “You’re not taking enough off,” Dirk sourly told the barber. “I said
conservative.
”
    Tate batted the barber’s fussing hands away. “What’s this?” He pointed to a paragraph in one of the speeches that had been written for him. Again he was ignored.
    “Hey, listen to this.” Eddy read a passage from the newspaper. “Dekker comes right out and calls you a rabble-rouser, Tate.”
    “I think he’s running scared,” Nelson said, drawing Dirk’s attention to him.
    “Nelson, I want you to be a prominent figure on the podium when Tate speaks at General Dynamics this afternoon. Those military contracts keep them in business. Since you’re an ex-flier, you’ll be a bonus.”
    “Am I to go? And Mandy?” Zee asked.
    “I’ll be glad to stay with Mandy,” Dorothy Rae offered.
    “Everybody goes.” Dirk frowned at the empty glass in Dorothy Rae’s hand. “And everybody looks his best. Squeaky-clean America. That means you too, missy,” he said to Fancy. “No miniskirt.”
    “Go screw yourself.”
    “Francine Rutledge!” Nelson thundered. “You’ll be sent home promptly if you use that kind of language again.”
    “Sorry,” she mumbled. “But who’s this asshole to tell me how to dress?”
    Dirk, unfazed, turned to Avery. “You usually do fine as far as wardrobe goes. Don’t wear anything too flashy today. These are working people, wage earners. Tate, I picked the gray suit for you today.”
    “Don’t forget to remind him about his shirt,” Ralph said.
    “Oh, yes, wear a blue shirt, not white. White doesn’t photograph as well on TV.”
    “All my blue shirts are dirty.”
    “I told you to send them out to be laundered every day.”
    “Well, I forgot, okay?” Suddenly he swiveled around and snatched the scissors from the barber’s hands. “I don’t want my hair cut any more. I like it like