Page 5 of Best Man
“Into my office, Mr Reed,” he says, waving his hand towards the door as if I’ve forgotten where it is.
I square my shoulders. “Just so you know, this is totally like being called in to see the Head. And not in a good way.”
“Is there a good way?” he asks, his mouth twitching at the corner as he shuts the door.
“In porn there is.”
“Ah, I can’t help feeling, Mr Reed, that watching porn has given you rather unrealistic expectations of life.”
I slump into the chair opposite his desk. “Maybe. But I have realised by now that it’s never that easy to get a plumber.”
He can’t help the smile this time, but he quashes it remorselessly and sits down in his chair before resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers together. It’s a thoughtful pose, but I can testify that it’s a better interrogation technique than anything MI5 use.And more threatening,I think morosely.
“Well?” he murmurs.
“Oh, okay then,” I say sulkily. “There might have been a tiny fight at the wake.”
He blinks. “And did you cause it?”
“No, of course not,” I say indignantly. He stares at me and I slump some more. “But I might have finished it. You should have seen Peter Sampson’s family. All of them glaring at him like he was Voldemort arriving for the wake, rather than just a gay man with his partner.”
“Pretendpartner.”
I stare at him. “Of course.” I furrow my brow. Surely he can’t think it’s anything else? I know the rules and I abide by them. No fucking the clients. I open my mouth to break in, but he speaks and the moment is lost.
“So, what happened?”
“The coffin was set up in the front room, and Peter tried to go in, but his elder brother was drunk and barred his way. Said no faggot was coming into his house.” Zeb grimaces but motions for me to carry on. “Anyway, he laid his hands on Peter and pushed him, but Peter shovedhim back.” I grin. “Quite surprised me. Made me feel almost proud.” I shrug. “But then it was open season, and in the fight that happened next, there was a lot of pushing and shoving and a great deal of family members who appeared to have very strong feelings about homosexuality. And not the good, strong feelings you get at Vibe at midnight.”
He frowns. “So, what happened? How did you finish it?”
I shift in my chair. “I punched the eldest brother. He deserved it,” I say quickly. “The homophobic git slapped Peter round the face.”
“And then?” I look at him and he sighs. “There’s more. I know there’s more.” He shakes his head. “There’s always more,” he says with weary resignation.
I try to summon up indignation, but I can’t manage it because he’s telling the truth. “I punched him, and I must be a great deal stronger than I ever imagined because he flew through the air and landed on the coffin.”
“Jesus Christ,” Zeb mutters and rubs his eyes.
“Do you know that in Spanish that’sJesu Christo?” I nod. “I know that because it was shouted a lot after that.”
“Why?” It’s the voice of doom.
I bite my lips. “Because the old lady sort of fell out of the coffin.”
“Sort of? How does a bodysort offall out of a coffin?”
“Your voice goes alarmingly high when you’re angry,” I observe.
He breathes in slowly. “Jesse Reed,” he says ominously.
“Okay, okay. Since you actually used my first name, I’ll tell you. But it wasn’t used terribly nicely. You could really do better.” He glares at me. “So, the old lady’s body sort of fell out of the coffin, and the brother landed on her.” I shrug helplessly. “It brought the party to a bit of an abrupt stop.”
“I should imagine it did,” he drawls. “Is that how you got your black eye?”
“I’d like to say yes, but the undignified truth is that one of the old lady’s shoes flew off and hit me in the eye.”
There’s a very long silence as he steadily goes red in the face. Alarmed, I wonder if I should ring for an ambulance, but at that moment he starts to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
