Vardaman, still standing, nodded and held the leather headrest of the catbird seat of the conference room. Someone had laid out a half-dozen bowls of nuts and potato chips to feed half the swinging dicks in the state senate. Guess no one informed them this was a private meet.

“You mind me asking how you did it?” Fannie said, setting down the flute of champagne, those fine-ass little bubbles rising to the top. “A few years ago, these old grits-in-the-mouth, secret-handshake douchebags wouldn’t let you mow their goddamn lawns. Me and you ain’t their kind of people, Vardaman.”

Vardaman moved the headrest from side to side, the chair’s wheels squeaking along the floor. “The party needed a little wake-up call,” he said. “Mississippi has wandered way the hell out in the woods. Outsiders trying to make Mississippi something it’s never been and never will be. This is a damn lovely state full of rich history, tradition, character. Look at what those folks did up at Ole Miss. Killing off Colonel Reb and not letting the band play “Dixie”? Like I tell my people, don’t ever forget where you come from. We’re a proud people who want to take all that back.”

“I grew up on the Coast,” Fannie said. “Wasn’t too damn great for me. I’ve been working hot pillow joints since I started shaving my legs. It wasn’t exactly Scarlett O’Hara and Tara down there. Fanciest thing I knew was my trailer park was called Camelot. But don’t try and spoon-feed me a hot-shit sundae. I know your game here and it doesn’t have damn thing to do with tradition. This ain’t about a thing but old-fashioned money and power.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “Mr. White bankrolled me when these people wouldn’t take my phone calls. They laughed behind my back, called my supporters a bunch of dumb, uneducated rednecks. Hicks. Now they’ll do anything to sign checks, kiss ass, and tee up every fucking ball on the fairway. And now I don’t need them. Or Buster White. Or you.”

Fannie took a sip of champagne, looking up at Vardaman. Staring up at his face, she decided he was one of the most unattractive men she’d ever met, and she had a long memory for ugly folks. Not just pure classic ugliness, but he had a weird symmetry of parts. His arms were too long, his hands too short. He had a big belly and a weirdly shaped head, like the face had been carved out of red country clay.