Gonzo Garza reclines in his bed, watching the storm rage outside. The rain falls in heavy curtains, obscuring his view of the Capitol’s pink dome.

Tori Mangonel sits naked on the other side of the bed, facing the wall.  Gonzo stares at her back.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

Mangonel ignores him and continues typing on her mobile.

“I told you I can’t drive you back today,” Gonzo growls.

Mangonel stops typing and sighs.  She scowls at him over her shoulder, and then turns back toward the wall.

“Yes, you definitely told me, you rude bastard.  And I told you that I ordered a car.”

Gonzo doesn’t respond, and Mangonel resumes typing.

Gonzo’s gaze returns to the relentless deluge outside.  It’s been raining for days.

“Voter turn-out’s going to be very low” he says quietly.  “That’s good for us.”

Mangonel doesn’t respond, which agitates Gonzo.  He grumbles a little, but Mangonel continues to ignore him. He leans over and pinches her thigh–hard.

“Ow!”

Her response is swift. She flips around and takes a sharp hold on a wing of fat hanging underneath Gonzo’s arm.

“Chingao!” He shoves her away and caresses the sore spot under his arm.

Mangonel watches him to make sure he’s not looking for more, then she returns to her spot on the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t fucking pinch me.”

Gonzo watches as she retrieves her phone from the floor and touches the screen.

“Pay attention to me,” he begs. “What are you looking at?”

She turns and sees that he’s pulled away the sheet that was covering him.  The tip of his tongue is pinched gently between his teeth, and his eyes look eager.

Mangonel shakes her head. “Hold on, I’ll show you.”

She stands.  Her slacks are handing over the back of a chair.  She puts them on, and slips into her bra.  She quickly checks her hair in a mirror across the room.

Gonzo waits while she drags over a chair and sits just out of his reach. He smiles again, and she snatches the bedspread that’s slipped onto the floor and throws it over him. “Pay attention,” she says. “This is serious.”

The video playing on her mobile was recorded by a security camera at a gas station. There’s no audio.

A man stands in the back of his truck, filling a large barrel with gasoline. A clerk emerges from the store and engages the man in a discussion. The clerk gestures to the barrel and appears agitated.

The man in the back of the truck continues filling his container. His eyes never leave the clerk, and his expression never changes.

When the flow of gasoline suddenly stops, the man looks down at the nozzle.  Then he looks at the screen on the pump.  Then he looks back at the clerk, and its clear he thinks he needs to look no further.

The man climbs down from the back of his truck.  The clerk holds out his hands, and repeatedly points to the pump.  The clerk’s gestures seem to say, It certainly wasn’t me who shut off the pump.

The man swings fast and hard. The clerk’s knees buckle from the force of the blow, and he stumbles off screen. The man from the truck–his teeth barred–charges off after the clerk.  A few seconds later, another clerk emerges from the store momentarily before disappearing inside again.

The video ends and Mangonel looks at Gonzo.

“What’s going to happen?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Gonzo scoffs.

He stands, pushes past Mangonel without trying to touch her, and disappears into his closet.

“When the fuel supply chain starts breaking down for real, we’ll know it.”

He’s deep in his closet, and he raises his voice, to ensure he is heard. “People with serious money will pick up and move elsewhere before unsatisfied demand really starts tearing us apart.”

“Uh-huh,” Mangonel says. She shakes her head.

Gonzo emerges in a pair of fresh underwear and a long-sleeved polo. “Its chilly in here,” he complains.

Mangonel checks her face in the mirror, and watches as he climbs back into bed.

Her mobile pings.

“That’s my car,” she announces.  She disappears to the front hall to search for her bag.

“When am I going to see a report on what y’all are doing for Steve Howe?” Gonzo calls after her.

He is scrolling through the feed on his mobile when she reemerges.

“You are sending me out into the rain to catch a car, and you want to get into this now?”

Mangonel crosses the room and stands next to the bed, bag in hand, shoes on her feet. “I’ve been here over two hours,” she reminds him.

Gonzo clenches his teeth and growls as he reads something that upsets him.

“Well?” she demands.

Gonzo swings his legs off the bed and sits up straight.

“This new poll from Banger’s race shows that we’re way off target. This is exactly what I warned everyone about.”

He retrieves his glasses from the bedside table. “If we keep sliding here, Gus could be in trouble.”

Gonzo types aggressively, and sends a series of messages, one after the other.

“Hello?” she asks, quieter now.  “Did you hear what I said?”

Gonzo stops typing and looks up for a moment.  His tone is matter-of-fact. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Mangonel stares at him in disbelief.  His phone pings, and he looks down.

She walks away.

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