The lunch hour is just beginning as Gonzo lumbers out of the Sam Houston Building tunnel.

He is tired, hung-over, and he needs to take his pills. As he winds his way through the back halls of the Capitol extension, he stops more than once to catch his breath.

The Interim Committee on the Economic Impacts of Criminal Justice Reform is meeting in E2.014.  The main hallway outside the hearing room is noisy and crowded.  At least a dozen mobiles are raised in the air above the crowd, broadcasting real time discussions to subscription-based political and policy networks.

Gonzo quickly turns down the back hall.  He is so eager to avoid eye contact with the people he passes that he does not see the state trooper guarding the hearing room’s back door.  He is startled when he finally looks up and finds the trooper blocking his path.

“This anteroom is reserved for committee members, their staff and their guests,” the trooper states in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

Gonzo, who is sweating and shaky, furrows his brow petulantly.  “A monitored camera and a remotely controlled lock aren’t enough to keep this room secure?”

The trooper’s posture changes almost imperceptibly: his hands move casually onto his utility belt, and he takes a small step back with his right foot.  “I’m sorry, sir?”

Gonzo ignores the trooper and raises his face.  He stares impatiently into the camera above the door.  Seconds later, a voice speaks in the trooper’s ear.  After looking Gonzo over once more, the trooper steps aside.

A soft buzzer indicates that the door is now unlocked.

Gonzo moves forward to open the door, but then he stops and turns suddenly.  “Sorry to be an asshole,” he says, shoving his hand forward to offer a conciliatory handshake.

The trooper bridles at Gonzo’s unexpected movement; his hand moves an inch closer to his gun.

“I’m grateful that you’re here keeping us safe,” Gonzo adds with a white flag smile.  His hand is still extended.

The trooper remains unresponsive.  His hard eyes are narrowed.

Gonzo can feel the weight of the gun strapped to his ankle.  He has never unholstered it in self-defense, and he has to fight a panicked urge to laugh out loud.

Finally, the trooper nods and offers a forced smile.  He takes Gonzo’s hand.

When Gonzo is inside the anteroom and the door clicks shut behind him, he feels another nauseating wave of adrenaline.  He chides himself for being so foolish: “One of these days you’re going to get yourself shot.”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

The anteroom is crowded with state representatives, staffers, and lobbyists from the nation’s largest vendor of privately run, felony mental health treatment centers.

Atop a table in the center of the noisy room are caterers’ tins overflowing with fajitas, rice, beans, pico de gallo, and guacamole salad.  There is a line of people waiting for food, and small groups stand huddled in every available space, trying to eat and visit at the same time.

Finally, Gonzo sees what he’s looking for: big cups of iced tea are lined up on the counter next to the sink.  For the hundredth time that morning, Gonzo reaches into his suit pocket to confirm that the small baggie of pills is still there.

The only chairs in the anteroom are crowded together in the corner.  Among the legislators occupying the room’s few seats is state Representative Brown Keller, chairman of the powerful House Calendars Committee.

Keller sees Gonzo standing across the room.  He sets his plate on his chair and weaves his way through the crowd.

After popping a handful of pills into his mouth, Gonzo finishes off a glass of tea and sighs.  He is feeling suddenly improved, and he smiles jovially when he sees Keller approaching.  The two old friends shake hands.

“First it was cameras and electric locks, and now there are troopers guarding you scoundrels?” Gonzo asks with a laugh.

Keller shrugs indifferently.  “The troopers are only temporary. Come on. Let’s get you a plate, then we’ll talk.”

One week earlier, during a hearing of the House Committee on Immigration and Border Security, protestors disrupted the proceedings.  When the committee’s chairman turned over the microphone to a representative of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, several people began shouting objections and disapproval.

The shouting quickly turned into a scuffle, and then someone threw a grotesquely stained and tattered U.S. flag in the direction of the committee.  While the flag posed no real threat, the chairman knew that he could not allow blatant disrespect for civility and order to go unchallenged, so he had the room cleared.

The people responsible for hurling the flag were wearing t-shirts that, when photographed together, stated clearly the nature of their complaints:

“Feds go home”

“Leave our money when you go”

“We can protect our own border”

As he fills his plate with food, Gonzo hears a group of staffers discussing the likelihood of copycat protests.

State Representative Roberto Parker Ross, a member of the Interim Committee on the Economic Impacts of Criminal Justice Reform, is just finishing his lunch when Gonzo and Keller return to Keller’s chair.  Ross, who is running for reelection and is polling 12 points ahead in his primary, invites Gonzo to take his chair.

The Tyler-based representative’s polite offer belies his resentment of Gonzo and Speaker Garza.  Gonzo, who is responsible for the decision to withhold financial assistance from Ross’s reelection campaign, knows that the young man is angry and that he cannot be ignored.

As Gonzo accepts Ross’s chair, he chooses his words carefully. “Looks like I definitely owe you one, Roberto.”

Ross’s face is suddenly cold and expressionless.  He, too, is judicious in reply.  “You should consider finding the opportunity to reconcile that obligation soon, my friend.  I’m real busy right now with campaign and personal business, but after I win my primary, I have plans to get involved in some issues, like water, that may be of interest to you and your brother.”

The implied threat does not surprise Gonzo, nor does he take offense at the disrespectful way in which Ross referenced the Speaker; that’s the nature of the game.

“I’ll have my people contact your people to set up a lunch,” Gonzo responds.  “I’ll come out to the district. If it would be helpful, I’ll come to an event.”

Ross is unconvinced but responds with requisite diplomacy.  “I would enjoy that immensely, thank you.”

Ross then turns his attention to Keller.

“Chairman, it’s an honor to have you joining us today. We are certainly grateful for this fine meal.”

Keller nods noncommittally. “Working with you is my honor, son.”

Ross lingers a moment longer.  He looks Gonzo and Keller over, as if he is trying to figure something out.  Then, with a smirk, he turns toward the door to the hearing room.  “Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen,” he calls over his shoulder.

While Keller is appointed to dozens of committees and special posts, his role as chairman of the House Calendars Committee frees him from most of the obligations related to those appointments.  Generally, if Keller wants anything done, he asks someone to take care of it for him.  Such requests are nearly always granted, because nearly everyone wants to be helpful to the chair of calendars.

In years past, Keller would have never appeared at an interim hearing like this.  But with each passing day it looks more and more likely that he will lose his bid for reelection.  Once popular comments he made about immigration reform had resurfaced and were being used against him with great success by his opponent.

His decision to attend today’s hearing and sponsor today’s lunch has nothing to do with criminal justice reform and everything to do with the group of lobbyists who are in the room.  Because committee rules prohibit the lobbyists from sponsoring a lunch for a hearing at which their issues are being discussed, Keller is sponsoring it for them.

The lobbyists are Keller’s guests, and this lunch is just one of the ways that he has begun using his $3.6 million campaign war chest to position himself for lobby opportunities after he is forced out of office.

“Well,” Keller says when Gonzo shows no signs of advancing the conversation, “you wanted to see me. What’s up?”

Gonzo slowly finishes chewing a mouthful of food.  He sets his plate on a nearby table.  From inside his jacket he produces a piece of paper on which there is a typed list of questions.  The paper has no title, nor are the questions attributed to an author.

“Have you seen the report TCLEOSE issued about the international law enforcement training center?” Gonzo asks.  Keller does not immediately respond; he is still reviewing the paper that Gonzo handed to him.

“No,” Keller answers after he folds the paper in half and slips it into his jacket pocket.

Gonzo leans in closer.  “Their fucking E.D. is retiring, and there was no way to stop him from issuing that inflammatory bullshit.  Our press office is already getting calls about the report, and it’s only a matter of time before our Dallas friends call screaming.”

Keller waits patiently for the ask.

“That old fool and his staff are going to be here today testifying on interim charge number 6.  If there is even a suggestion that they or anyone on the committee is going to redirect the conversation to the international law enforcement training center, we want you to hit TCLEOSE with those questions. Hard. You understand?”

Keller frowns and removes the sheet of paper from his pocket.  He looks it over again.

“Is it true that the Attorney General is looking into some of the training money they spent in the Valley?”

“As far as you know, she is.  If you are afraid to present that idea without qualification, you are welcome to say that a source in the Speaker’s office told you about the investigation.  If they ask who in the Speaker’s office told you that, you can tell them that they should contact the A.G.…then hit them again.  We want you to keep hitting them until their time is called and they are dismissed.  The chairman will send them away when their times expires; I’ve already seen to that.”

Keller sits back in his chair and looks around the room. “I can do that,” he says finally.

“Thank you, my friend.”

Gonzo stands and offers Keller his hand.

“Bullshit,” Keller says with a laugh. “You’re not getting out of here that easily. I want you to come meet some of my guests.”

Gonzo looks at the lobbyists standing together across the room.

“I can do that,” he says.

“Good,” Keller says as he stands. “And it would be great if you made them think that I am the biggest swinging dick to ever pull the levers of this here state government.”

“What are friends for?” Gonzo says with a laugh.