The Governor's Wife by Mark Gimenez Page A

shocked him again. The boy's body twitched harder this time, then he coughed. She checked his heart.
    "He's back!"
    Lindsay let out the breath she had been holding. The doctor resumed his suturing, as calmly as if he had been interrupted only by a phone call from a pharmaceutical rep.
    "Where's Mom?"
    "Laredo. Probably having a margarita with lunch right about now."
    "What's she doing in Laredo?"
    "Trying to get Mexicans counted for the census."
    Bode gave Becca, his eighteen-year-old daughter, a big bear hug. He had wanted a boy—William Bode Bonner, Jr.—but he had gotten a girl—Rebecca Bodelia Bonner. She couldn't play football, but she was tall and athletic like her old man, she was tough and fiercely competitive like her old man, and she liked girls like her old man. His daughter was a lesbian.
    "You feeling okay, honey? You look a bit peaked."
    In fact, she looked like hell.
    "Oh, we're just hung over. We went to the music festival last night, over on Sixth Street. It was wild."
    Every March the South by Southwest Film and Music Festival took over downtown. Thousands of young folks from across the country descended upon Austin hoping their band or film might get discovered by a record or movie studio. Best Bode could tell, they spent most of the nine days getting drunk and stoned and raising hell on Sixth Street. No event did a better job than SXSW of promoting the city's official slogan: "Keep Austin Weird."
    "You're not supposed to tell your old man you're hung over."
    "Oh." She giggled. "Then we stayed in our dorm and studied."
    "You're also not supposed to act like your old man's a moron who didn't go to the same college."
    "You're a hard man to please."
    "That's what I hear." He gave her a little kiss on her forehead. "You might be in college now, but you're still my little gal."
    She kissed him on the cheek. Then Darcy kissed him on the other cheek.
    "And I'm your gal's pal."
    Becca had brought Darcy Daniels over to the Mansion for Thanksgiving dinner and announced during dessert that she was a lesbian and Darcy was her lover. Bode damn near spit out his pumpkin pie. He hoped the lesbian thing was just a college fad, like voting Democrat, and she would grow out of it, so he hadn't made a big deal about it, especially after the Professor said it would help with the Independent voters. She made a face.
    "Daddy, you gotta lose the hair spray. Go natural, like me and Darcy."
    "You don't use hair spray?"
    "Or shave."
    "Your legs?"
    "Our girl parts."
    "Your girl parts?"
    "All the sorority girls, they get Brazilian wax jobs. Not us. We go natural."
    "And I needed to know that because …?"
    She giggled again, which Bode liked, and they sat. They'd always had more of a father-son relationship where they could talk about anything, but Brazilian wax jobs were a bit much even for this father. The waitress came, and Bode ordered the peanut butter pancakes.
    "Oh, Daddy, congratulations."
    "For what?"
    " Duh … Winning the primary."
    "Oh. Yeah. Thanks."
    "You don't seem happy about it."
    Bode shrugged. "Uncontested."
    "And you like a contest."
    "So do you."
    "Like father like daughter."
    They fist-bumped.
    "So what've you been doing this morning?" she asked.
    "Reading to kindergartners."
    Becca laughed. "Why?"
    " 'Cause your mother bailed for margaritas on the border."
    They were having lunch at Kerbey Lane Cafe on the Drag right across from the University of Texas campus. It was noisy and busy and colorful with college kids and body art. Kerbey's was an institution in Austin, known for the tattooed wait staff and great pancakes. They had lunch together every week—same day, same time, same place—a standing reservation for the governor of Texas at the same table on the raised section fronting the plate glass window and Guadalupe Street just an arm's length beyond. The sidewalk ran right outside the window, so students walking by could see him and wave at him, although most waved with only one finger. Democrats—at least