One of the purchasing agent guests, holding a plate heaped high with
food, called out, "Great eating, Hank I"
"Glad you like it," his host acknowledged. "And with you guys here it's
all deductible."
Adam smiled with the others, knowing that what Kreisel had said was
true-that the purchasing agents' presence made this a business occa-
sion, to be deducted eventually on Hank Kreisel's income tax return.
The reasoning: auto company purchasing agents, who allocated millions
of dollars'worth of orders annually, held a life or death authority
over parts manufacturers like Kreisel. In older days, because of this,
purchasing agents were accustomed to receive munificent giftseven a
lake cruiser or a houseful of furniturefrom suppliers whom they
favored. Now, auto companies forbade that kind of graft and an
offender, if caught, was fired summarily. Just the same, perks for
purchasing agents still existed, and being entertained socially, on
occasions like
256~--wheels
this or privately, was one. Another was having personal hotel bills picked
up by suppliers or their salesmen; this was considered safe since neither
goods nor money changed hands directly, and later, if necessary, a
purchasing agent could deny knowledge, saying he had expected the hotel to
bill him. And gifts at Christmastime remained one more.
The Christmas handouts were forbidden annually by auto company managements
in memos circulated during November and December. But just as inevitably,
purchasing department secretaries prepared lists of purchasing staff home
addresses which were handed out to suppliers' salesmen on request, a
request considered as routine as saying, "Merry Christmasl" The
secretaries' home addresses were always on the lists and, though
purchasing agents allegedly knew nothing of what was going on, somehow
their addresses got there, too. The gifts which resulted-none delivered
to the office-were not as lavish as in older days, but few suppliers
risked failing to bestow them.
Adam was still watching the purchasing agent with the piled plate when a
soft, feminine voice murmured, "Adam Trenton, do you always say just what
you're thinking?"
He turned. In front of him, regarding him amusedly, was a girl of
twenty-eight or thirty, Adam guessed. Her higb-cheekboned face was up-
tilted, her moist full lips lightly parted in a smile. Intelligent bright
eyes met his own directly. He sensed a musky perfume, was aware of a
lithe, slender figure with small, firm breasts beneath a tailored
powder-blue linen dress. She was, Adam thought, orle of the most
breathtakingly beautiful women he had ever seen. And she was black. Not
brown, but black; a deep, rich black, her smooth
wheelr,-257
unblemished skin like silken ebony. He curbed an impulse to reach out,
touching her.
"My name is Rowena," the girl said. "I was told yours. And I've been asked
to see that you get something to eat."
"Rowena what?"
He sensed her hesitate. "Does it matter?" She smiled, so that he was aware
of the full redness and moisture of her lips again.
"Besides," Rowena said, "I asked you a question first. You haven't
answered it."
Adam remembered she had asked something about-did he always say what he
was thinking?
Not always. I don't believe any of us do really." He thought: rm sure as
hell not doing it now, then added aloud, "When I do say anything, though,
I try to make it honest and what I mean."
"I know. I was listening to you talking. Not enough of us do that."
The girl's eyes met his own and held them steadily. He wondered if she
sensed her impact on him, and suspected that she did.
The chef at the buffet, with Rowena~s aid, filled two plates which they
carried to one of the sun deck tables nearby. Already seated were the
judge-a youngish Negro who was on the federal bench in Michigan-and
another guest from Adam:s company, a middle-aged development engineer
named Frazon. Moments later they were joined by Brett DeLosanto,
accompanied by an attractive, quiet brunette whom he introduced as Elsie.
'We figured this is where the action is," Brett said. "Don't disappoint
us."
Rowena asked, -What kind do you have in mind?"
"You know us auto people. We've only two interests -business and sex."
The judge smiled. "It's early. Perhaps we
258-wheels
should take business first." He addressed Adam. "A while ago you were
talking about company annual meetings. I liked what you said-that people,
even with a single share, should be listened to."
Frazon, the engineer, as if rising to a bait, put down his knife and
fork. "Well, I didn't. I don't agree with Adam, and there are plenty
more who feel the way I do."
I know," the judge said. I saw you react. Won't you tell us why?"
Frazon considered, frowning. "All right. What the loudmouth one-share
people want, including consumer groups and the so-called corporate
responsibility committee, is to create disruption, and they do it by
distortion, lies, and insult. Remember the General Motors annual
meeting, when the Nader gang called everybody in the industry 'corporate
criminals,' then talked about our 'disregard for law and justice,' and
said we were part of 'a corporate crime wave dwarfing street crime by
comparison'? How are we supposed to feel when we hear that? Grateful?
How are we supposed to take clowns who mouth that kind of claptrap?
Seriously?"
"Say!" Brett DeLosanto interjected. "You engineering guys were
listening. We thought the only thing you ever heard was motor noises."
"They heard, all right," Adam said. 'We all heard-those in General
Motors, the other companies too. But what a lot of industry people
missed was that the very words just quoted"-he motioned toward
Frazon-"were intended to anger and inflame and prevent a reasonable
response. The protesting crowd didn't want the auto industry to be
reasonable; if it had, we'd have cut the ground from under them. And
what they planned, worked. Our people fell for it."
The judge prompted, "Then you see invective as a tactic."
wheeis-259
-Of course. It's the language of our times, and the kids who use
it-bright young lawyers mostly-know exactly what it does to old men in
board rooms. It curls their hair, raises their blood pressure, makes
them rigid and unyielding. The chairmen and directors in our industry
were reared on politeness; in their heyday, even when you knifed a
competitor, you said 'excuse me.'But not any more. Now the dialogue is
harsh and snarly, and points are scored by overstatement, so if you're
listening-and smart-you underreact and keep cool. Most of our top people
haverft learned that yet."
"I haven't learned it, and don't intend to," Frazon said. "I'll stick
with decent manners.-
Brett quipped, "There speaks an engineer, the ultimate conservative I"
"Adam's an engineer," Frazon pointed out. "Trouble is, he's spent too
much time around designers."
The group at the table laughed.
Looking at Adam, Frazon said, "Surely you're not suggesting we should
go along with what the militants at annual meetings want-consumer reps
on boards of directors, all the rest?"
Adam answered quietly, "Why not? It could show we're willing to be
flexible, and might be worth a try. Put somebody on a board-or on a
jury-they're apt to take it seriously, not be just a maverick. We might
even end up learning something. Besides, it will happen eventually and
we'd be better off if we made it happen now instead of being forced into
it later."
Brett asked, "Judge, whafs your verdict now you've heard both sides?"
"Excuse me." The judge put a hand to his mouth, stiffing a yawn. "For
a moment I thought I was in court." He shook his head in mock solem-
260-wheels
nity. "Sorry. I never hand down opinions on weekends."
"Nor should anyone," Rowena declared. She touched Adam's hand, letting
her fingers travel lightly over his. When he turned toward her, she said
softly, 'Will you take me swimming?"
The two of them took a boat from the floating dock-one of Hank Kreisel's
with an outboard which Adam used to propel them, unhurriedly, four miles
or so toward the lake's eastern shore. Then, within sight of a beach
with towering leafy trees behind, he cut the motor and they drifted on
the blue translucent water. A few other boats, not many, came into sight
and went away. It was midafternoon. The sun was high, the air drowsy.
Before they left, Rowena had changed into a swimsuit; it was leopard
patterned and what it revealed of her figure, as well as the soft,
silken blackness of her skin, more than fulfilled the promise of the
linen dress she had had on earlier. Adam was in trunks. When they
stopped, he lighted cigarettes for them both. They sat beside each other
on the cushions of the boat.
"Um," Rowena said. "This is nice." Her head was back, eyes closed
against the brightness of the sun and lake. Her lips were parted.
He blew a smoke ring lazily. "It's called getting away from it all." His
voice, for some reason, was unsteady.
She said softly, with sudden seriousness, "I know. It doesn't happen
often. And it never lasts."
Adam turned. Instinct told him that if he reached for her she would
respond. But for seconds of uncertainty he hesitated.
As if reading his mind, Rowena laughed lightly. She dropped her
cigarette into the water. "We came to swim, remember?"
With a swift, single movement she rose and dived over the side. He had
an impression of her
wheels-261
lithe dark body, straight-limbed and like an arrow. Tben, with a whipcrack
sound and splash, she was out of sight. The boat rocked gently.
Adam hesitated again, then dived in too. After the sun's heat, the fresh
lake water struck icily cold. He came up with a gasp, shivering, and
looked around.
"Hey I Over here I" Rowena was still laughing. She bobbed under the surf
ace, then re-emerged, water streaming down her face and hair. "Isn't it
wonderful?"
"When I get my circulation back, I'll tell you."
"Your blood needs heating, Adam. I'm going ashore. Coming?"
"I guess so. But we can't leave Hank~s boat to drift."
'Then bring it." Already swimming strongly toward the beach, Rowena
called back, "Thafs if you're afraid of being marooned with me."
More slowly, towing the boat, Adam followed. Ashore, and welcoming the
sun's warmth again, he beached the boat, then joined Rowena who was
lying on the sand, her hands behind her head. Beyond the beach,
sheltered in trees, was a cottage, but shuttered and deserted.
"Since you brought it up," Adam said, 'at this moment I can't think of
anyone I'd sooner be marooned with." He, too, stretched out on the sand,
aware of being more relaxed than he had felt in months.
'You don't know me."
"You've aroused certain instincts." He propped himself on an elbow,
confirming that the girl beside him was as breathtakingly lovely as she
had seemed when be met her several hours ago, then added, "One of them
is curiosity."
"I'm just someone you met at a party; one of Hank Kreisel's weekend
parties where he employs
262-wheels
hostesses. And in case you're wondering, that's all be employs us for.
Were you wondering?"
"Yes."
She gave the soft laugh he bad grown used to. "I knew you were. The
difference between you and most men is that the others would have lied
and said'no."'
"And the rest of the week, when there aren't parties?"
"I'm a high school teacher." Rowena stopped. "Damnl I didn't mean to
tell you that."
'Then we'll even the score," Adam said. "There was something I didn't
intend to tell you."
"Which is?"
He assured her softly, 'Tor the first time in my life I know, really
know, what it means when they say'Black is Beautiful.'"
In the silence which followed, he wondered if he had offended her. He
could hear the lapping of the lake, a hum of insects, an outboard motor
in the distance. Rowena said nothing. Then, without warning, she leaned
over and kissed him fully on the lips.
Before he could respond she sprang up, and ran down the beach toward the
lake. From the water's edge she called back, "Hank said you had the
reputation of being a sweet man when he told me to take special care of
you. Now let's go back."
In the boat, heading for the west shore, he asked,"What else did Hank
say?"
Rowena considered. "Well, he told me you'd be the most important person
here, and that one day you'll be right at the top of your company."
This time, Adam laughed.
He was still curious, though, about Kreisel and his motives.
Sunset came, the party at the cottage continuing-and livening-as the
hours passed. Before
wheels-263
the sun disappeared, at last, behind a squad of white birches like
silhoutted sentinels, the lake was alive with color. A breeze stirred its
surface, bearing fresh, pine-scented air. Dusk eased in, then darkness.
As stars came out, the night air cooled and the party drifted from the sun
deck to indoors where, in the great rock fireplace, heaped brush and logs
were blazing.
Hank Kreisel, an affable, attentive host, seemed everywhere, as he had
throughout the day. Two bars and the kitchen were staffed and bustling;
what Kreisel had said earlier about drinks and food available
twenty-four hours each day seemed true. In the spacious, hunting
lodge-style living room the party split into groups, some overlapping.
A cluster around Pierre Flodenhale fired auto racing questions. "...
say a race is won or lost in the pits. Is that your experience?"...
"Yes, but a driver's planning does it too. Before the race you plan how
you'll run it, lap by lap. In the race you plan the next lap, changing
the first plan..." The network TV personality, who had been diffident
earlier, had blossomed and was doing a skillful imitation of the U.S.
President, supposedly on television with a car maker and an environ-
mentalist, trying to appease both. "Pollution, with all its faults, is
part of our great American knowhow... My scientiftc advisers assure
me cars are polluting less than they used-at least, they would if there
weren't more cars." (Cough, cough, coughl)... "I pledge we'll have
clean air again in this country. Administration policy is to pipe it to
every home..." Among those listening, one or two looked sour, but
most laughed.
Some of the girls, including Stella and Elsie, moved from group to
group. Rowena stayed close to Adam.
Gradually, as midnight came and went, the numbers thinned. Guests
yawned, stretched
264-wheels
tiredly, and soon after climbed the stone stairway at the fireplace, some
calling down goodnights from the gallery to the holdouts who remained
below. One or two exited by the sun deck, presumably reaching their rooms
by the alternate route which Hank Kreisel had showed to Adam earlier.
Eventually, Kreisel himself-carrying a sourmash Bourbon-went upstairs.
Soon after, Adam noticed, Elsie disappeared. So did Brett DeLosanto and
the redhead, Stella, who had spent the last hour close together.
In the great hearth the fire was burning down to embers. Apart from Adam
and Rowena, both on a sofa near the fireplace, only one group remained
at the room's opposite end, still drinking, noisy, and obviously with
the intention of staying for a long time.
"A nightcap?" Adam asked.
Rowena shook her head. Her last drink-a mild Scotch and water-had lasted
her an hour. Through the evening they had talked, mostly about Adam,
though not by his choice but because Rowena adroitly parried questions
about herself. But he had learned that her teaching specialty was
English, which she admitted after laughingly quoting Cervantes: "My
memory is so bad, that many times I forget my own name."
Now he stood up. "Let's go outside."
"All right."
As they left, no one in the other group glanced their way.
The moon had risen. The night was cold and clear. Moonbeams shimmered
on the surface of the lake. He felt Rowena shiver, and put an arm around
her.
"Almost everyone," Adam said, "seems to have gone to bed."
Again Rowena's gentle laugh. I saw you noticing."
wheels-265
He turned her to him, tilted her head, and kissed her. "Let's us."
Their lips met again. He felt her arms around him tighten.
She whispered, "What I said was true. This isn't in the contract."
"I know."
"A girl can make her own arrangements here, but Hank sees to it she
doesn't have to." She snuggled closer. "Hank would want you to know that.
He cares what you think about him."
"At this moment," he whispered back, "I'm not thinking of Hank at all."
They entered Adam's bedroom from the outside walkway-the route he had used
this morning on arrival. Inside, the room was warm. Someone, thoughtfully,
had been in to light the fire; now, tongues of flame cast light and
shadows on the ceiling. The coverlet was off the double bed, with sheets
turned back.
In front of the fire, Adam and Rowena slipped out of what they were
wearing. Soon after, he led her to the bed.
He had expected tenderness. He found, instead, a savagery in Rowena which
at first amazed, soon after excited and, before long, inflamed him, too.
Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the wild, tempestuous
passion she unleashed. For both of them, it lasted-with gaps which human
limits demanded-through the night.
Near dawn she inquired mischievously, 7I)o you still think black is
beautiful?"
He told her, and meant it, "More than ever."
They had been lying, quietly, side by side. Now Rowena propped herself up
and looked at him. She was smiling. "And for a honky, you're not bad."
As he had yesterday afternoon, he lit two
266-wheels
cigarettes and gave her one. After a while she said, "I guess black is
beautiful, the way they say. But then I guess everything's beautiful if
you look at it on the right kina of day."
"Is this that kind of day?"
"You know what I'd say today? Today, I'd say 'ugly is beautiful'I"
It was getting light. Adam said, "I want to see you again. How do we
manage it?"
For the first time, Rowena's voice was sharp. "We don't, and both of us
know it." When he protested, she put a finger across his lips. "We
haven't lied to each other. Don't let's begin."
He knew she was right, that what had begun here would end here. Detroit
was neither Paris nor London, nor even New York. At heart, Detroit was
a small town still, beginning to tolerate more than it used to, but he
could not have Detroit and Rowena-on any terms. The thought saddened
him. It continued to, through the day, and as he left Higgins Lake for
the return journey southward late that afternoon.
When he thanked his host before leaving, Hank Kreisel said, "Haven't
talked much, Adam. Wish we'd had more chance. Mind if I call you next
week?"
He assured Kreisel that he could.
Rowena, to whom Adam had said goodbye privately, behind two locked doors
an hour earlier, was not in sight.
chapter sixteen
"Oh, Cbristl" Adam said. "I forgot to phone my wife." He remembered,
guiltily, intending since Saturday morning to call Erica and patch up the
quarrel they had had before he lef t. Now it was Sunday evening and he
still hadn't. In the meantime, of course, there had been Rowena, who
eclipsed less immediate matters, and Adam had an unease, too, about facing
Erica after that.
"Shall we turn off and find a pay phone?" Pierre Flodenhale asked. They
were on Interstate 75, southbound, near the outskirts of Flint, and
Pierre was driving Adam's car, as he had been since leaving the Higgins
Lake cottage. The young race driver had come to the cottage with someone
else who left early, and Adam had been glad to offer him a ride, as well
as to have company on the way back to Detroit. Moreover, when Pierre
offered to drive, Adam accepted gratefully and had dozed through the
early part of the journey.
Now it was growing dark. Their headlights were among many slicing
homeward from the country to the city.
"No," Adam said. "If we stop, it will waste time. Let's keep going."
He put out a hand tentatively to the Citizens Band radio beneath the
instrument panel. They would be coming within range of Greater Detroit
soon, and it was possible that Erica might have switched on the kitchen
receiver, as she did on weekdays. Then he let his hand drop, deciding
not to call. He was increasingly nervous, he realized, about talking
with Erica, a nervousness which increased a half hour later as they
passed Bloomfield Hills, then, soon after, left the freeway and turned
west toward Quarton Lake.
268-wheels
He had intended to let Pierre, who lived in Dearborn, take the car on
directly after dropping him off. Instead, Adam invited Pierre in and was
relieved when he accepted. At least, Adam thought, he would have the foil
of a stranger for a while before having to face Erica alone.
He need not have worried.
As the car crunched to a halt on the driveway gravel of the Trentons'
house, lights went on, the front door opened, and Erica came out to greet
Adam warmly.
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