Sociopath? (39 page)

On the next to the last day, Rafe moved into
touch mode. He scratched the colt’s ears and under his mane. He ran
his hands across his back and down his legs. He leaned into him. He
laid his cheek against the Desperado’s own face, whispering into
his ear. He put his arms around the horse’s neck.

“Okay,” Rafe told him on the morning of the
seventh day. “Our time is up so this is the acid test. You’ve got
to let me ride you or you have a date with a needle later this
afternoon. Have you got that, Tee?” (He’d taken to calling the colt
Tee which stood for Des Two, or maybe Des Too).

“I’m coming up now, Tee,” he crooned into the
horse’s ear (in much the same tone, he used when he was getting
ready to enter a woman). “Just relax, Sweetheart, and trust me.
I’ll make it all right, I promise.”

Grabbing hold of a handful of mane, he leapt
onto Desperado’s back, still reassuring the horse of his good
intentions. After the first shock of feeling Rafe’s weight on him,
the young stallion seemed to accept the man on his back without
protest. Rafe patted his neck and nudged him a little with his
heels.

“Let’s pick up the pace a little, what do you
say?”

They went from a trot into an easy lope.

“Dad, look!” Roger pointed to the paddock.
Rafe was crouched over the colt’s neck, hands clutching its mane,
jean-clad legs tightly clasping its sides. The colt’s mane and tail
were flying and so was Rafe’s own black hair.

“Yes!” Roger pumped one arm into the air
triumphantly.

The Cornings walked over to the paddock
fence. Rafe rode over and slid down.

His smile went flashing across his face. “So,
Mr Corning, are you going to sell him to me?”

“I’ll keep my word. He’s yours, Rafe. I’m not
going to charge you for a horse I was going to have put down. I
think you still might want to be careful. I’m not sure he’ll be
safe for anyone but you.”

Rafe shook his head. “No, Mr Corning, I think
you might be right about that.”

He went back later with the horse trailer to
bring Desperado home. Renny came out to see the colt when he got
there.

“Thanks for backing me up, Dad. He wouldn’t
have let me try it if you hadn’t given your okay.”

Renny gave his son a quick squeeze on the
shoulder.

“That’s because he doesn’t know you as well
as I do, Rafe.”

*

In March, he called a meeting with Chet and
Jeri.

He’d been in four NASCAR Busch series races
last year and had come in fifth, second, fifth and first - yeah,
baby! - all top fives. All in all, an incredible record for a stone
rookie just jumping over from driving sprint cars. Ron Corydon was
so pleased, he’d offered Rafe the spot as full time driver for the
Number 10 Winchester Chevrolet for this season. From the very first
minute, he slid into the window to the cockpit of his car, it felt
like coming home. The American monsters of NASCAR, almost 3 ? tons
of muscle, were right up his alley. He loved goosing the white
Monte Carlo with the black pony express rider on the side down the
straightaways and powering it around the turns. If he could keep
doing as well as he was, his team and sponsors would be more than
satisfied.

*

“I think it’s time you guys became official.
Jeri, I know managing the fan club and the website has become a
full-time job, and you’ve had to expand to handle the movie stuff
as well, so starting today I’m putting you on salary. We’ll begin
with $40,000 a year and see how that goes. And, Chet, you tell me
what title you want and what you think it’s worth?”

Chet, who’d only been visualizing just this
scenario for about three years, was speechless now that the time
had come.

“I don’t know, Rafe.”

“Well, let’s figure it out then. First, I see
you as just a kind of general friend and manager, as you have been
all along anyway, but what about your business, Chet? I can’t ask
you to short that on my account.”

“I’m ready to sell and just throw in with
you, Rafe. I was thinking about retiring anyway. I’ve even got a
guy lined up who wants to buy me out.”

“And how much will you be giving up in income
to do that, Chet?”

The old man waved his hand. “That’s not
really important. Everything I have is paid for so the money I get
will just be mine. I believe in you, Rafe. I think you’ll jump to
Cup after a year with the Busch series and probably win a
championship within five. How about we go with a percentage? It
will save you money up front but I’ll get more when we get things
really rolling. Say ten percent.”

Rafe nodded. “That sounds fair. In the
meantime, keep Dottie on if she wants to stay. You’ll need clerical
help.”

Dottie was Chet’s long-time secretary. She
was in her middle-50’s. A tall woman built along the lines of
Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. She wore no make up, an
iron-gray bun on the back of her head, a generally forbidding look
and sloppy, unbecoming sweatsuits that ranged from black to gray to
navy blue and back again. She could curse like a sailor but, Lord,
that woman could speed read a contract and know exactly what every
paragraph said and Rafe thought she could type about 500 words a
minute.

She and Rafe had a schtick they did together
wherein he tried to sweet talk her and she would have none of
it.

“I wish I’d met you when you were younger,
Dot. We’d have made some beautiful music together…in fact, it may
not be too late.”

“It was always too late, Rafe. Some of these
fucking dumb broads may fall for your line of crap but even when I
was in my twenties, I’d have seen right through you.”

“Do you think I’m handsome, Darlin’?”
standing before her in his sexy firesuit with his black eyes, the
lock of black hair on his forehead and the usually-irresistible
grin.

“Go peddle your happy horseshit to someone
who is interested in buying, Rafe.”

“C’mon, Dot, why don’t you admit you adore
me?”

“I adore you like I’d adore having a boil on
my butt.”

After the deal was made, he cooed into her
ear.

“I’m your boss now, Dottie, you’re going to
have to be nice to me or I won’t sign your paycheck.”

“My paycheck could never be high enough to
make that fucking happen.”

He laughed. “Ah, Dot, you’re such a
refreshing change from all the women who love me.”

“God knows a body would never go broke
under-estimating the intelligence of the average American female.”
She snorted. “Fan club, my ass.”

*

Anyway, Dot stayed on, grumpy as ever. Chet
rented a suite of three offices in a strip mall in Benedict and
gave over one of them to Jeri although she’d mostly be working from
home. Rafe told her to buy any equipment she needed and Chet too
and send the bills to him and he’d forward them on to his
accountant. There was really very little work involved in being
rich when you were a Vincennes. Renny, and Rafe supposed, his
father and grandfather before him, had arranged the family finances
so securely and conveniently you couldn’t help but increase your
wealth. It probably wasn’t even possible for a Vincennes to go
broke even if they worked at it. Of course, Rafe was usually pretty
practical in spending his money. He wasn’t interested in buying a
luxury condo in Aspen or a multi-million dollar ocean front villa
in Florida as some of the others had. (Jocey and Edgar had the
condo and Morgan and Jessica the villa). He had bought himself a
metallic blue Harley Davidson Screaming Eagle and he was thinking
of trading in the Corvette on a new one although so far he hadn’t
had the heart. It had over 100,000 miles on it now but he’d taken
such good care of it, it was still in mint condition. He knew
eventually he’d buy a plane but he was in no particular hurry to do
that. Besides, between racing and acting, he’d actually been
bringing in quite a bit more money than he spent.

*

In May, he drove to Provincetown,
Massachusetts, (to be, he guessed, what would be considered the
best man), at Chas and Vic’s wedding. They’d bought a house in the
picturesque little town on the tip of Cape Cod, known for being
populated primarily by gays. The place was sort of rundown but they
had extravant plans for its renovation. It was a small wedding but
tasteful (although the reception afterwards got a little out of
hand). He tried not to take the center of attention away from the
happy couple but they themselves wouldn’t allow that, introducing
him to everyone as their straight godson, the famous Rafe
Vincennes. They’d all heard the story about Vic getting beaten up
and what had happened with Bob Bolover so his reputation had
preceded him. They emphasized the part about him being straight so
none of their friends would get the wrong impression. Still, he
thought he’d never been hugged and kissed so much, surely, never as
much at his own family’s gatherings. He wondered why the
familiarities he wouldn’t tolerate from other people, he let slide
when it came to Chas and Vic and their friends. Maybe it was
because they expected absolutely nothing from him. They were
proprietary about him but it was in the most undemanding way.

He spent the night with them and they talked
until late after everyone else left. They wanted to be filled in on
all the details of his life. In the morning, Chas fixed sausage and
pancakes. They would be leaving soon for the Boston airport to
catch a plane for their honeymoon in San Francisco. He drove on
down the Cape to visit Annecy and Mark at their gray-shingled place
on the water at Chatham. They had one white-blonde little girl,
Christina. The older partner in their vet clinic had retired and
they’d bought him out so they owned it now.

“So, Rafe, did I ever get a chance to tell
you what an absolute sweetheart I thought Rhiannon was?”

“No, Sis, but I could tell you all liked
her.”

“Do you think you’ll get married?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I think she loves you a lot. You won’t hurt
her, will you?”

“I love her too, Annie. Maybe she’ll end up
hurting me.”

“Could anyone ever hurt you, Rafe? Is that
even possible?”

~ ~ ~

He had flown into LAX the night before. She
picked him up at the airport, waiting in front at the unloading
zone, with her hair tucked under a floppy brimmed hat and
sunglasses so she wouldn’t be recognized. (She owned a black
Ferrari but she drove her pearl Cadillac Escalade or the gold BMW
more often so as not to draw attention to herself.) He didn’t have
to go to luggage pick up. He had enough clothes at her place that
he never had to pack. They made love and that seemed all right but
he could tell she was restless and jittery about something.

The next morning, she still couldn’t settle
down. They were drinking orange juice at the table by the pool. She
twisted in her seat and turned her glass around and round.

“Jesus, Ree, you’re driving me nuts. Let’s
have it, whatever it is.”

She took a deep breath. “I haven’t always
been totally up front with you, Rafe. I mean, I’ve never lied to
you but I haven’t told the whole truth either.” Her voice took on a
note of desolation. “Oh, God, Rafe, I hope you don’t think I’ve
been dishonest and feel differently about me when I tell you what I
have to say.”

“I can’t imagine anything that would make me
feel differently about you, Ree.”

“Yes, Rafe, but this is about sex.”

“Ah, sex,” he said, nodding, “go on.”

“Remember me telling you about how brutal it
always was in West Virginia and then how I sold myself for the
first few years when I came here?”

“I remember.”

“Well, that part was all true. I hated sex,
Rafe, and I guess I thought all girls did. I know me and all my
cousins dreaded it when the men came around. Our house was small
enough that when Pap screwed our Mom, we knew it and it seemed like
a vicious thing he did to her. She always cried after. Sometimes
she begged him to take one of us instead…and sometimes he did. When
he pointed at me and said, ‘you, Pearl Ann’, I just forced myself
to go cold inside so I could endure it. I was so grateful when it
was one of my sisters instead.

And then it was the same out here. We just
did it because it was the only way we could live. We joked about
how stupid men were, that you could pretend, and how easy it was to
fool them because they wanted to believe they were macho studs who
could actually make you like it. I can remember counting when it
was going on, just praying for it to be over. Do you know it takes
the average John 212 seconds to ejaculate, Rafe?”

“No, Honey, I didn’t know that,” he told her
softly.

“I pretended with the men who took me in
after I got off the street too because, you know, it was how I
earned my keep and got them to help me climb the ladder. I had to
keep them feeling good abut themselves so they’d want to do that.
And remember, Rafe, when I told you that once I made it and could
support myself, I vowed I’d never fuck another man unless it was my
idea?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what I really meant was that I didn’t
think I’d ever do it, not ever again, because I didn’t think I ever
would want to fuck another man. As far as I was concerned, sex was
only just ugly. I didn’t even know that it could be good for women
too,” tears were running down her face, “no one ever told me that,
Rafe, or if they did I didn’t believe them. So I got this big femme
fatale reputation. Rhiannon, the sex pot, all the posed pictures
with low cut tops and skirts slit to the thigh. But it was never
me. It was all just a big act. I didn’t have sex with anyone until
that day on the set when I met you. I knew when you took my hand
and smiled at me that I had this weird feeling in my stomach. I’d
never felt anything like it before, like, you know, anticipation
that something wonderful was about to happen. And then when you did
what you did and something really wonderful did happen, well, the
tears were good for the part, but they were really because I
couldn’t believe it. I never knew it could be like that, Rafe.”