Page 36 of Best Man
Jesse looks thoughtful. “If you were trained to kill in twenty different undetectable ways, wouldn’t you have knocked her off at some point?”
“Bloody old bitch,” I say forcefully and Jesse and Max turn to stare at me.
“Not now,” I say wearily. “I’ve got to go and shoot an imitation pigeon. Fuck my life,” I bemoan. I stalk off just as Patrick says “Zeb,” and comes towards me.
JESSE
Max and I stare after the stiff back of Zeb as he marches towards the man holding the gun. The man looks rather hesitant which might have something to do with the way Zeb is scowling, but he still bravely hands over the gun.
“Well,” I say slowly, and Max gives a sudden bark of laughter.
“You can say that again.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen him that cross since I spilt Tipp-Ex down his new Tom Ford suit.”
He smiles at me. “You seem to bring it out in him.”
“Is that good or bad?”
He hums and looks at Zeb. He’s talking to the organiser and has a frown of deep concentration on his face.
“I think a good thing,” he says. “He’s too fucking buttoned up for his own good.”
“He does like order,” I say, looking at Zeb as he smooths a hand over his navy and white checked shirt as if searching for wrinkles.
“He’s had to.”
Something about the grim tone catches my attention, and I stare at him. “Why?”
He hesitates for a long second and then comes to some form ofconclusion. “This is very private,” he warns. He pauses. “But for some fucking reason I’m still going to tell you.”
“I won’t tell anyone else,” I promise, and he examines my face intently before nodding.
“His father wasn’t exactly known for steadiness,” he says slowly, his eyes going unfocused as if he’s remembering something. Then he smiles. “Eddie was one of the most charming men I’ve ever met. He was funny and loud and kind and very charismatic. When he came into a room, you knew it.”
“Are any of those things bad?” I look over at Zeb. The sun is kindling the waves of his hair, and everyone is watching him. “Zeb’s got the same charisma. People notice when he walks in a room.”
He smiles a little sadly. “The difference is that Zeb has willpower. He had to develop it very fast because Eddie didn’t have any. He was everyone’s friend and no one’s enemy and he loved a good time. Unfortunately, that good time meant womanizing and gambling.”
“Oh dear. I have a horrible feeling about where this story is going.”
He nods, staring at Zeb with a deep fondness in his eyes. “Eddie had a knack for making money, but he had an equal talent for losing it. Like the fairies at birth gave him too big a gift and had to hastily counteract it. He was exceptionally generous and lived like a king when the money was in, but then the next day he’d be dodging creditors and bailiffs. By the time he married my mother he’d had six wives. And the remarkable thing is they all loved him even after the divorces. There was something very lovable about Eddie.” He shrugs. “Even when you hated him, you still liked him.”
“Did Zeb hate him?” I ask tentatively.
He shakes his head. “God, no. He idolised him at first, by all accounts. By the time my mother and I came along, that idolisation had faded and there was something almost weary about his love for his dad. He’ll never speak badly about him, but Eddie’s the reason he is the way he is.”
“Organised and serious,” I say with realisation.
He nods. “He had to be. By the time he was nine, he was organising Eddie’s chequebook and squirrelling away any spare cash he could findin the house so they’d have something for what Eddie called rainy days.” He shrugs. “It was England. Of course there were a lot of those. He went to ten different boarding schools. He’d last a couple of months there and then he’d be leaving because Eddie couldn’t pay the school fees. I don’t think he had friends because they never stayed anywhere long enough for him to make them. But he loved Eddie, and Eddie loved him.”
I sneak a peek at Zeb, and it’s as if I’m looking at him with new eyes. He’s always been far too organised and wears responsibility like it’s his underwear. Unseen and unnoticed. But to know what’s made him like that makes my stomach hurt. To think of a young and probably stoical Zeb packing up from another school and moving on with only Eddie for company makes my eyes burn.
Max smiles fondly as he looks at Zeb. “He still looks after all his stepmothers, you know?”
“I got that impression from the way he spoke.”
“He talked about them?” He sounds startled, but when I nod, he smiles. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” he says quietly. “He was immensely kind to me when his dad married my mother. I was young and probably really annoying.” I grin, and he winks. “I know it’s hard to believe.” His grin fades to a soft smile of remembrance. “He looked after me and made sure I was okay, and even after his dad died and his responsibility could have ended, he kept it going. He’d come to my sports days and wrote me letters every week when I was at boarding school and sent me treat boxes. Then when I was old enough, I decided he was my best friend, and I made him agree.” He chuckles. “It’s the best thing I ever did. He’s kind and fiercely loyal. When you’re in with Zeb, you never really leave.”
