Page 35 of Best Man
Jesse looks slightly surprised but takes it and goes to stand next to the man as he talks and nods. I look at the group who are, by and large, staring condescendingly at Jesse, apart from a group of women who are eyeing up his long legs and small arse. Frances’s father shakeshis head as he looks at Jesse and says something to the group of men he’s standing with that makes them break into laughter.
I bristle and only realise that I’ve tightened my fists when Max reaches down and separates my fingers. “Okay, Rocky,” he hisses. “They’re just your ordinary garden variety of arsehole. No need for fisticuffs.”
I shake my head. “Pricks. He’s better than any of them.”
I can feel his stare on the side of my head like a sunburn. “Hmm,” he says contemplatively.
He opens his mouth to say more but at that moment one of Charles’s group shouts out, “Hard to hold a shotgun with a limp wrist, son.”
I move a couple of steps forward but Max grabs me and pulls me back just as Jesse turns and smiles cheerily at the man.
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asks happily. “You’ll have to give me some tips.” Then he turns and shouts “pull” in a way that inexplicably makes my balls tighten. He shoots the clay pigeon into smithereens. The first person to manage it so far including all of Charles’s group.
He gives the gun back to the man and smiles warmly at the crowd. “It’s all in the wrist action,” he says loudly, and a few of the girls giggle.
I shake my head as he comes towards me. “When did you learn to shoot?”
He shrugs. “One of my brothers fancied a girl who was into it. We went every Saturday.”
“One of them?” Max says. “How many have you got?”
“Five, and two sisters.”
“Fucking hell, it’s like meeting one of the Waltons.”
Jesse laughs. He turns to me, smiling, and I shake my head. “Whatareyou wearing?”
He looks down. “Is there a problem?” he asks mildly.
“Is that a child’s T-shirt?”
“Of course not,” he scoffs. “You might not have noticed, Zebedee, but I’m a big boy now.” Max snorts, and he grins at him before turning back to me. “Although I did have one like this when I was little,” hesays consideringly, looking at his name in bold letters. He grins. “It helped in our family to wear something identifying yourself at all times. My friend Eli bought this for me for my birthday.”
“And you are wearing it because?”
He blinks. “Well, because the itinerary said to come in period clothing, although that’s a slightly vague request.” He waves his hand downward. “Anyway, you can’t get much more period thanSesame Street.” He looks around. “Oh, you can,” he says in a disappointed voice.
I open my mouth to speak but Nina strides across to us.
“Nina,” Jesse exclaims as if she’s his long-lost family. “How are you doing this fine morning?”
Nina ignores him. It’s a neat trick and one I wish I could learn, but here we are with no sign of that happening yet.
“Well,” she sneers. “You’ve managed to make quite the spectacle of yourself today, Zebadiah.”
I blink. “Have I?”
She waves her hand at Jesse. “Your companion is making a total fool of you. If you must pick up very young men, at least make sure you pick a classy one.”
“Now, you wait a minute,” I hiss, seeing her look of surprise. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never risen to her rudeness, having been taught to be polite at all costs to women. But I’m not having her talk like that about Jesse. “We really shouldn’t talk about classy behaviour, Nina, because you’re not exactly displaying it yourself. You’re acting like a fishwife.” I pause. “Why do we say fishwife?” Jesse grins delightedly and I shake my head. “Never mind.” I look hard at her. “I’m here because your son asked me to come. The same way he asked to live with me. I spent five years looking after him, and I’m glad to rest the burden on someone else’s shoulders. However, I promised him I’d be here, and I keep my word. But I detest pettiness and rudeness. You don’t know Jesse, and I won’t have you talking to him like that. He’s a wonderful young man with a big heart. I’d explain what that means because you patently don’t have one, but I’d lose the will to live, and we’re out of time anyway as I have to shoot pottery now.”
Nina stares at me. For once she’s speechless and I give thanks.
Jesse breaks the silence as adroitly as ever. “I think your cauldron’s bubbled over,” he says helpfully to her.
She grimaces at him and stalks away.
“Did you know her husband was in the SAS?” Max says.
