Brenda
A fundraiser for the governor’s next race offered an opportunity to rub elbows and chat up the powerful beings in the party. Brenda had been a little disappointed in her table. She and Roland were seated with a retiring state legislator and his wife, a lower-level attorney and her husband, and a middle-aged couple who had opened a chain of barbecue restaurants and who were there because they’d given a donation of a hundred thousand to the governor’s last campaign.
Roland chatted with the barbecue baron, as he called himself, about taxes and accounting methods. Brenda engaged the attorney in a discussion of a case in the Texas Supreme Court about a lawsuit filed by a woman who’d been unable to terminate her pregnancy after discovering her unborn baby had neither a brain nor kidneys.
“It’s a loser case.” The attorney was on her third or fourth drink, something with fruit and tequila. “And I have to write the goddamn amicus brief.”
“Shouldn’t be that hard to write it. The law is clear.”
The attorney, a young woman with brown hair cut around her chin and dark green eyes, took another sip. “The woman had complications from the delivery. She developed a uterine infection and wound up infertile—after a twenty-hour labor to give birth to a baby who died, as predicted, two hours later. People don’t support this. I’m getting hell from everyone, even my own parents.”
“That’s rough.”
“You said it.” Then she fixed her eyes on Brenda. “I understand you and Austin General are being sued in a different abortion case. Where a young woman bled out.”
“It’s a nuisance suit. Nothing we could have done.”
“That’s not what’s alleged in the complaint. I read it. The husband claims that the woman went to the doctor the day before she died, and he sent her home, knowing that she was miscarrying and that the fetus wasn’t viable.”
“Not what the records say.”
The attorney stirred her drink with a cherry-laden toothpick. “Maybe Dr. Martin changed the records. If so, a good attorney will sniff it out.”
Brenda was a good attorney herself, and she knew not to show any sign of emotion. “There’s nothing to find.”
“Maybe. And maybe we took this too far, you know, the abortion thing. We could have been a little more moderate, don’t you think?”
It was what Brenda worried about too, since she very much wanted to be the next Senator from Texas. But her party was all in on restrictions, even if women were dying, and to get to be Senator meant surviving the primaries. Moderate didn’t cut it with the primary voters, many of whom would have voted for Georgina Crane or John Petersen on the basis of their anti-abortion stances.
The attorney turned back to her husband, cutting off the discussion. Brenda turned to her food, since no one else was close enough for conversation.
Dinner was steak, baked potato, and salad. Brenda ate half of her steak, drank a glass of wine, and looked around the room to evaluate.
The affair was being held in a large banquet hall with a stage at the front, a podium set up at the left of the stage for speeches after the meal, the Texas flag and the United States flag at opposite corners of the stage, and the state emblem hung from the wall at the back of the stage. Tables in the hall were covered with burnt orange tablecloths and decorated with flowers and balloons. Two bar tables were set up at opposite sides of the room, where bartenders poured, stirred, and shook various drinks. Thirsty attendees had the option of trying to snag one of the busy servers to bring a drink or fetching it personally.
Going for a drink at the bar also offered the opportunity to mingle, and since the room was filled with politicians, most of them chose to do just that. Brenda turned to Roland.
“I’m going to work the room a little. Care to come?”
He waved her off. “I’m bored by political talk. I’ll cramp your style.”
He would, too. Brenda needed a husband at these kind of events, but she wished that she had one who shared her interest in politics or at least, even if he didn’t share the interest, supported her more. She thought of John Petersen. Women in the party swooned when he came near. He would have been an asset at least in the primary stages. In the general, maybe not so much.
John had passion, commitment, and energy. He was also, she had to admit, sexy. For a second she regretted choosing Roland over John. She once thought that she loved John. But they’d dated when she was young, and she realized that to get to where she wanted to go—where she deserved to be—she needed the right connections and the right image. John was working-class and without money. He might be well-regarded in the pro-life community, but playing the political game required more than passion.
Roland was who he was. Presentable. Old Texas. He had respectable connections. And he had that family money. At least, unlike some husbands, he wasn’t an embarrassment. But he bored her to tears, and he had no interest in politics. Still, if she caught on, would she need Roland to fund her campaign?
She picked up a bourbon and soda and made her way to the table where the lieutenant governor, Luke Swan, was laughing loudly with Elias Hicks, the head of the state party. Two important people for her future.
“Well, well. Brenda Phillips.” The lieutenant governor was a little tipsy. “You’re looking gorgeous this evening.” He nudged Elias. “Isn’t she?”
She knew she was. She’d worn a red, low-cut dress that showed off her breasts and her hips. She’d spent several hours at Austin’s most expensive salon, ensuring that her hair and makeup were perfect.
“Why, thank you, Luke.” She noticed Luke’s wife regarding her sourly. “Hello, Karen. It’s been a long time. You look wonderful yourself.”
“You should get back to your seat. The governor’s going to speak in a minute.” Karen spoke with the graciousness of a Southern lady who secretly wanted you dead. “And do say hello to Roland for me. It’s been an age.”
Karen, like Roland, was from old Texas money.
“I certainly will. But I just wanted to say hi.” She turned a bright smile towards both Luke and Elias. “And I hear you’re thinking of who might be a good candidate for the Senate race in two years.”
“Got that right, gorgeous.” The lieutenant governor tended to speak loudly even when sober. Now he was almost shouting. “Got that right. We were just talking about it. You got someone you want to get behind?”
“I’m thinking of running myself.”
That got her a more serious response. He looked her up and down, and nodded approval. “A good-looking woman like you would get the men out. And a woman candidate would soften our image on this abortion thing in the general. We’re taking a hit. You have kids?”
“Two beautiful children.” She’d have to get Christina to lose some of the fat and learn how to smile, but the kids would be assets.
“I personally think that John Petersen should run,” Karen weighed in again on the conversation. “He’s a hero in the pro-life community. And he’s damn good looking. I’d vote for him.”
Brenda turned to her, surprised. “A lot of people think he’s dangerous.”
“Well that just makes him more attractive, doesn’t it?” Karen’s face twisted into a mocking smile. “That dangerous aura. Who knows what he’s capable of? Women would be swooning over him.”
“He’s a friend, and I know he’s not interested in running.” Brenda’s tone was curt. “I am.”
“Good thing, too.” The lieutenant government ignored his wife. “We need a woman. Show the men in the country that beauty is on our side. Work the room, darling. Everyone who matters is here.”
She intended to do just that.