The Stallion (1996) Read Free Page B

He’d fallen into shit and come out smelling like a rose. In more ways than one.
    He was in control of the company. His grandfather, Number One, had gone back to Palm Beach; and though he was still the persistent meddler he had always been, he left the day-to-day management of the company to his grandson and the other officers and directors. He insisted that the company continue to manufacture automobiles, so they continued the venerable Sundancer. But one day … well, there would come a day.
    He was free of Angelo Perino. Perino didn’t even come to Detroit much anymore. He was out; but more than that, Number One had told him not to interfere in the affairs of the company. Unfortunately, you couldn’t altogether ignore a man who owned two hundred thousand shares, but Perino was smart enough not to buck the old man.
    Number One was smart and tough. Always had been. He’d used Perino and made that Italian son of a bitch like it. He’d made Perino understand that blood was thicker than water; so even when he, Loren, had fucked up, he was stillfamily and counted for more with his grandfather than a rank outsider could ever hope to count.
    But none of this was the chief reason why Loren thought he was a lucky man—that was business. He was lucky at home, which was more important.
    Alicia, his first wife, Betsy’s mother, didn’t bug him anymore. She lived in Connecticut and apparently was content with golf and sailing—and probably a boyfriend. She owned 5 percent of Bethlehem Motors and had written him a harsh letter complaining about the lowered dividend and the declining value of the stock, but with 5 percent there was nothing much she could do about it.
    Bobbie, Lady Ayres, his second wife, had her divorce, and she hadn’t cost him much. During a furiously angry exchange between them one night, she had confessed she’d fucked with Perino. (“That lying wop son of a bitch swore to me he never fucked my wife!” Bobbie had laughed. “He never did. He fucked your girlfriend, before we were married.”) She didn’t hate him. She scorned him, which was worse. Anyway, he was well rid of her.
    That marriage had ended at the most opportune time. Within a month after he met Roberta, he was free to marry her. And she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
    Anyway, good times had returned. Though he was a little wacky in some respects, Nixon made a fine president who stood foursquare for the values that made this country great. Loren had taken to wearing the American-flag lapel button, as Nixon did; and he was glad, too, that Nixon had repopularized the vested suit. Loren liked vests because he thought they disguised his paunch. Also, it was acceptable to wear a hat again, and because his hair was thinning, Loren was glad to cover his head. He was a thickset man, not as big as Number One had been, but bigger than his father. With a little more exercise and a little less drinking he could be a handsome man, he judged. He’d rather be a contented one.
    He sat in the rear seat of a Sundancer, being driven home by a chauffeur. His bodyguard sat beside the chauffeur. Ever since he had arranged the beating of Angelo Perino, he’dhad to keep a bodyguard employed. Sooner or later that wop son of a bitch would look for his revenge, if not personally then through one of the hoodlums that adhered to the Perino family. His mistake had been in not ordering Perino beaten to death. If any other occasion arose, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Perino was dangerous.
    Roberta would not have let him make that mistake.
    The most unfortunate aspect of being president of Bethlehem Motors was that he had to ride around in a goddamned Sundancer. He’d thought about introducing a luxury line, the company’s Cadillac or Lincoln, maybe called the Loren; but he knew Number One would come down hard on that idea. Anyway, the dealers would never take it. They were having a hard enough time selling Sundancers.
    This Sundancer,