Ellie Endsley and James Carlos Cates are huddled together around a small table. Just down the hall from the kitchen in which they sit is the City of Edinburg’s Council Chamber and public hearing room.

There’s another couple in the kitchen – a man and a woman. They are huddled close, toying with empty coffee cups near the sink, talking low about something secret, or shameful, or sad.

A woman who is engrossed in a live feed on her mobile is also standing not far from Endsley and Cates, just inside the doorway of the kitchen — out of the crush of citizens straining to hear what’s happening inside the Council chamber.

The woman’s shoes are off, and she is leaning against the wall.

This is only the second time that Endsley and Cates have talked face to face. And, this is the first time that they’ve had the chance to talk privately.

“You have to do it,” Endsley asserts firmly. Her voice is low, and she casually scans the room, to see if she’s attracted attention.

Cates is worried. He believes that Endsley is the kind of person who is right more often than she is wrong, and her counsel is frightening him.

“I don’t know,” he responds. Cates doesn’t want to decide right now; he wants to slow down. “Bo Stone is going to work against anyone who’s on the wrong side of this, and I feel certain that he’s gonna win on this issue.”

Outside, the overflow crowd swells and murmurs in response to something that is happening inside the hearing room. Endsley and Cates stop and watch. The people outside are huddled into groups of twos or threes — or near the front of the throng, struggling to see inside, to hear the testimony.

Endsley smiles warmly and leans in closer to Cates – the crowd outside is instantly forgotten. She puts her hand on top of his. Her tone is warm. “You don’t have the luxury of sitting and waiting quietly while the game unfolds. The powers that be see you as an interloper, and they’re grateful to you when you let your time slip away.

“And everyone else,” she continues, gesturing to nothing (or everything), “they don’t give a shit about you. They only care what value you can provide.   And the voters – that tiny subset of the population that you need to line up for you on election day, they won’t even notice you unless you come out swinging and keep swinging until after the bell rings.”

Cates leans back, pulling his hand away. He rubs his forehead tenderly and sighs. “I don’t know,” he responds. “This feels like one of those times when I’m an hour into a chess game, and I’m tired and not feeling it, and I start to worry that I’m about to move myself into position to be slaughtered. And then I do it. I make the move before I can see how it will play out, because I don’t know what else to do, and I don’t want to spend another minute on a pointless game.”

There had been an immediate connection the first time that Endsley and Cates met, in her offices, surrounded by her team and some joint allies, like Olee Olye. They seemed to understand each other from the beginning, and that energy carried over to this meeting.

Endsley sees that Cates is open to being pressed.

“Attack it, Jim. Rep. _Howe is all sorts of tied to this project. And, your church opposes it, and you’re not sure that your church is wrong.

“You have nothing to fear. Who wants to get mixed up fighting with someone like you? No one. So you’re gonna hit hard and fast, take your prize and walk confidently to the next opportunity to put points on the board. That’s it. This is yours, but you have to take it.”

He nods and looks around the room.

“Besides,” she continues, leaning forward, her hand on his knee, her eyes glassy with excitement. “If they get mixed up down here, they’ll just go to Austin to fix it. You’re overthinking this, I promise. Just go for it; its now of never.

The crowd swells again, and they begin calling back the names that the clerk is calling out inside. “Cates!” a man yells from a position unseen. “James Cates!”

Cates stands, and Endsley sits back. He retrieves his jacket from the back of the chair, and attentively slides it on.

He looks at her one last time, but says nothing. A few hairs have fallen out of place, and they’re in danger of dangling in her eyes. He reaches out and delicately moves the hairs away.

“Cates here!” he calls out as he walks out of the room. His face is blank, like a man walking to a poker table with a million dollar pot.

“James Cates,” he calls again, and the massed crowd parts to let him walk through.

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