Mirror Image

it. You won it for us, even though minutes before your first match you were massaging your blue balls and puking up two six-packs of beer.”
    “This is different from a college tennis tournament.”
    “But you,” Eddy said, aiming an index finger at him, “are exactly the same. Since I’ve known you, you’ve never failed to rise to the occasion. Through those two years we spent together at UT, through flight training, through Nam, when you were carrying me out of that goddamn jungle, when have you ever failed to be a fucking hero?”
    “I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be an effective congressman for the people of Texas.”
    “And you will be.”
    Slapping his knees as though an important decision had been reached, Eddy stood up and set his empty beer can on the dresser. Tate stood up, too, and he happened to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.
    “Good God.” He ran his hand over the heavy stubble on his jaw. “Who’d vote for
that
? Why didn’t you tell me I looked so bad?”
    “I didn’t have the heart.” Eddy slapped him lightly between the shoulder blades. “All you need is some rest. And I recommend a close shave in the morning.”
    “I’ll be leaving for the hospital early. They told me that Carole will be taken out of the recovery room about six and moved into a private room. I want to be there.”
    Eddy studied the shiny toes of his shoes for a moment before raising his eyes to his slightly taller friend. “The way you’re sticking so close to her through this—well, uh, I think it’s damned admirable.”
    Tate bobbed his head once, tersely. “Thanks.”
    Eddy started to say more, thought better of it, and gave Tate’s arm a companionable slap. Tate wouldn’t welcome marriage counseling from anyone, but especially not from a bachelor.
    “I’ll leave and let you get to bed. Stay in touch tomorrow. We’ll be standing by for word on Carole’s condition.”
    “How are things at home?”
    “Status quo.”
    “Jack said you’d put Fancy to work at headquarters.”
    Eddy laughed and, knowing that Tate wouldn’t take offense at an off-color comment about his niece, added, “By day I’ve got her stuffing envelopes. By night, God only knows who’s stuffing envelopes. By night, God only knows who’s stuffing her.”
    * * *
    Francine Angela Rutledge crossed the cattle guard doing seventy-five miles per hour in a year-old car that she’d inflicted with five years’ worth of abuse. Because she didn’t like safety belts, she was jounced out of her seat a good six inches. When she landed, she was laughing. She loved feeling the wind tear through her long, blond hair, even in wintertime. Driving fast, with flagrant disregard for traffic laws, was just one of Fancy’s passions.
    Another was Eddy Paschal.
    Her desire for him was recent and, so far, unfulfilled and unreciprocated. She had all the confidence in the world that he would eventually come around.
    In the meantime, she was occupying herself with a bellhop at the Holiday Inn in Kerrville. She’d met him at a twenty-four-hour truck stop several weeks earlier. She had stopped there after a late movie, since it was one of the few places in town that stayed open after ten o’clock and it was on her way home.
    At the truck stop Buck and Fancy made smoldering eye contact over the orange vinyl booths while she nursed a vanilla Coke through a large straw. Buck gobbled down a bacon cheeseburger. The way his mouth savagely gnawed at the greasy sandwich aroused her, just as intended. So on her way past his booth, she had slowed down as though to speak, then went on by. She settled her tab quickly, wasting no time to chat with the cashier as she usually did, and went directly to her convertible parked outside.
    Sliding beneath the steering wheel, she smiled smugly. It was only a matter of time now. Watching through the wide windows of the café, she saw the young man stuff the last few bites of the cheeseburger into his mouth and toss enough currency to cover his bill onto the table before charging for the door in hot pursuit.
    After exchanging names and innuendos, Buck had suggested that they meet there the following night, same time, for dinner. Fancy had an even better idea—breakfast at the motel.
    Buck said that suited him just fine since he had access to all the unoccupied rooms at the Holiday Inn. The illicit and risky arrangement appealed to Fancy enormously. Her lips had formed the practiced smile that