LITMIR.BIZ

      Three

       “I don’t approve.”

      Tanner Hart gave his attorney, friend and political advisor an off-center smile that bordered on sarcasm. “Thanks for your support.”

      “What did you expect?” Jack Milstead countered, his round, fair-skinned features etched in a frown that drew attention to his shiny pink cheekbones.

      Tanner stretched his lean, taut body as far back in the small chair as it would allow, searching for a more comfortable position. In between working all hours of the night, he’d vented his frustrations on his gym equipment at home; he suspected he’d overdone it.

      He and Jack had decided to meet in a coffee shop instead of one of their offices for their weekly get-together. Since he hadn’t slept much, he needed some strong stuff to jump-start his day.

      This place was one of his favorite haunts, a small, privately owned and operated coffee shop. The smell of flavored coffees and fresh baked breads and pastries always made his mouth water. Thank goodness it wasn’t all that frantic this morning. They had found a table in the back, and for the moment, the area belonged to them.

      “No way can I give such a foolhardy stunt my blessings,” Jack added, a pulse leaping in his jaw. “Not at this stage of the game, anyway.”

      “Are you about to lecture me, Jack?”

      “If that’s what it takes.”

      Tanner curbed a sigh. How could he tell his friend to give it a rest, that he knew what he was doing? But crossing Jack was no easy feat, not when he thought he knew best. And most of the time he did, Tanner conceded. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Milstead, he wouldn’t even be in the race for the Texas Senate.

      Jack lived for politics, though he’d never had the desire to run for office himself. “I work best behind the scenes,” he’d told Tanner, “grooming young men like you to run this great state.”

      In his late sixties, Milstead was a self-made man who had gotten into the nursing home business at the right time and was now a millionaire several times over.

      Tanner had met him and his wife, Sissy, and son, Ralph, before he’d married Norma. They had been old and dear friends of hers. He and Jack had hit it off immediately and in turn had become friends. Tanner guessed he admired and respected him more than anyone else he knew. Holding on to his approval was terribly important to him.

      “Cat got your tongue, boy?” Jack demanded, leaning forward, his eyebrows drawn together in a fierce frown.

      Tanner fingered his tie, feeling the humidity as though he were outside. Or perhaps it was his mentor’s intense scrutiny that made him uncomfortable. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, and probably not great timing, but I felt it was a necessary evil.”

      “For a man without any political experience, but who’s entering the final leg of the race, you just don’t go firing your ad agency.”

      “Why not?” Tanner asked, his deep voice even and cool.

      “Because it could spell political suicide, that’s why.”

      “I disagree,” Tanner said with vigor, though his confidence did erode somewhat under Jack’s piercing gaze. Still, he defended his actions. “The agency wasn’t doing Jack-shit.” He broke off with another grin. “No pun intended, of course.”

      Jack flapped his hand, then ran it though his thick graying hair and on down to his mustache. “Yeah, yeah.”

      “Anyhow,” Tanner continued, his tone once again abrupt and all business, “it’ll work out. Besides, it’s a done deal. The Randolph Agency in Dallas is history.”

      Jack’s scowl didn’t lessen. “Well, done deals can be undone. In the political world that’s an everyday occurrence.”

      “But not in my world.” Tanner’s tone was rigid. “I make a decision, I stick to it. Just like I’ve stuck to the issues that I feel passionate about.”

      That last pointed remark brought a flush to Jack’s already heated features, and he cursed. To date, issues had been the only bone of contention between the two men. Jack had wanted to have a large say in Tanner’s platform. And Tanner had indulged him up to a point. But then, he’d had to step in and take charge, realizing that it took fire in one’s belly to win big. In order to start that fire and get it roaring, Tanner had to stick to his own convictions.

      “All right, I’ll keep my mouth shut and hope you know what you’re doing. What does Irene say about it?”

      Irene Sullivan was his campaign manager who had hired the agency in the first place.

      “I don’t know. I haven’t told her.”

      “My guess is she’ll shit a brick.”

      “Probably. Maybe then she’ll feel better.”

      Jack grunted. “Funny. Actually, she’s the one you needed to dump. She’s too much in-your-face, too ballsy to suit me. I don’t know how the two of you keep from butting heads on a daily basis.”

      “We have our moments,” Tanner said, “that’s for sure. But overall, she does a good job. She has a mind like a steel trap, and you know how well-traveled she is in the political arena. That adds to her value.”

      “How ’bout the fact that she’s a looker? Are you telling me that doesn’t fit into the equation?”

      “I’m not screwing her, Jack, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

      “I bet it’s not from lack of trying on her part.”

      “How did we get off on this topic of conversation anyway?” Tanner lost his patience. “I can and will handle Irene, keep the bit in her mouth, if need be. So don’t worry.”

      “As long as she does the job,” Jack mumbled, “I guess that’s all that matters.”

      Tanner sipped on his coffee. “Like it or not, her strategy, along with yours and lots of others, has turned me into a viable candidate.”

      “Not

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