Overkill(54)

“Shut up, Eban.”

“Aw, I know how you must feel. Your best friend has walked out on you. That’s gotta hurt. But he was old, tired, and terminal. We’re better off without him and his sad-sack attitude.” He set down his glass and wrapped the beach towel more securely around himself. “I’m chilled. I’m going upstairs to get in the sauna.”

“You’re going upstairs to pack.”

Eban stopped so suddenly he almost slid out of his pool shoes. “Pack? Where am I going?”

“Up told me that he had advised you to go abroad to live for a while. I think that’s your best option.”

“Well, I think that option sucks.”

“I’ll make the jet available.”

“You’re not listening, Dad. I’m not leaving the country. If I run off, I’ll look guilty.”

Sid became perfectly still and locked gazes with him. Eban had never seen him direct this particular level of wrath toward anyone before, not his fiercest business competitor or an insubordinate employee, and certainly not toward him. It gave him pause, but rather than desist, he changed his tactic.

Flashing his most disarming smile, he spread his arms out at his sides. “Who am I to turn down the Gulfstream? Maybe a few days away wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“You’ll stay indefinitely. Until I call you back.”

So much for playing nice. “The fuck I will.”

Sid took several steps toward him. “Do not talk to me like that, Eban.”

“What is the matter with you these days? You’re not yourself. I blame Up. His pessimism has rubbed off on you.”

Sid appeared unfazed. “Years ago, when you were in grade school and held that kid’s head in the toilet and nearly drowned him, Up was reluctant to pay off the parents and the school superintendent so you wouldn’t be expelled. He did as I ordered, but he told me then that you should be taught a stern lesson about accountability for one’s actions.

“To my everlasting regret, I didn’t listen or heed his advice. Worse, I continued to bail you out, time and time again. Look where my indulgence has brought us. Your mother died a pill junkie because of you and your shenanigans. You were convicted of a felony. Now you’ve cost me my best friend.”

Eban saw red. “I’m your son!”

“A fact that does not do me proud.”

Eban growled, made fists of his hands, and socked one into the palm of the other. “Why are you blaming me for everything? None of this is my fault. It’s that Lennon woman’s. All this is her doing.”

With that, the fight went out of Sid. His bearing became one of defeat. He regarded Eban with sorrow, perplexity, and—what really disconcerted Eban—pity.

“No, Eban, all this is your doing. Furthermore, the consequences of your actions seem not to have sunk in yet.”

He assumed an arrogant stance. “So, enlighten me of these consequences, Father dear.”

“What you seem not to have grasped is that whenever Rebecca Pratt dies, whether she’s taken off life support or dies of natural causes, you will always be liable for her death.”





Chapter 23





Rebecca was pregnant.

Zach realized it had been unfair of him to drop that on Kate and then clam up about it. He’d never intended to tell anyone. The only reason he’d told her was so she would know that when he’d had to make the decision between prolonging Rebecca’s life or ending it, there had been a consideration that surpassed the Pratts’ dogma and the fear of his fans’ reaction, as Doug had alleged.

Kate had stared at him, dumbfounded, finally finding enough voice to say, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did. And that’s all I’m saying about it.”

After that, they’d spoken little on the drive from Doug’s house to the airport to catch an Atlanta-bound flight, on which he’d been lucky enough to book two first-class seats.

While waiting for its departure, they’d eaten a late lunch at one of the airport’s restaurants. He’d been recognized several times, had signed a couple of autographs, and had his picture taken, but he’d welcomed those short-term breaks from the strain between Kate and him, which his brusqueness had caused.

Now, she sat turned away from him, staring out the airplane window. He’d created the tension. It was up to him to smooth things out. “Kate?” She turned her head away from the window and looked at him. “Have you ever been to Mardi Gras?”

Seeming surprised by the innocuous question, she didn’t answer at first, then, “A couple of times. You?”

“Several. One year the Bacchus krewe invited me to ride in their parade. That was an experience.”

“You threw beads?”

“By the handful.”

“To everyone? Or just to the women who flashed their breasts?”

He looked at her with feigned bafflement. “They’re supposed to flash their breasts?”

That coaxed a soft laugh out of her. “I’d wager you saw more than your share. Who on that float ran out of beads first?”

“You’ve seen one pair…” He yawned. “It almost got boring.”

“Oh, right.”

She laughed again, and he joined in, but when it languished, he said, “Mad at me?”