‘Well, ain’t that just touching?’ Jesse said when he saw it, smacking Lex hard on the back. ‘And there I was thinking you were just a selfish brat who didn’t care about no one but yourself.’
‘I am a selfish brat!’ Lex snapped. ‘I’ve never cried for anyone but myself and I don’t intend to change my habit now. Those tears were added in later, during the edit.’
‘Is that allowed?’
‘Of course. The Gods only touch up what is already there.’
On Jeremiah’s footage, Kala had done a good job of making him seem handsome and fearless and bold. But, if anything, this only added to the overall impression the public had of him as a cold, ruthless, selfish git? whilst poor, noble, heroic Jesse Layton had given his life to save Jeremiah’s little sister. The papers were full of what an honourable, decent, practically saintly man Jesse had been, which seemed rather ironic when he was actually an outlaw on the run, with a reward on his head and a noose waiting for him back west for whatever horrible crimes he’d committed there.
Lex might have been slightly annoyed by all the attention Jesse was getting, but the papers were also focusing on poor, grieving Lex Trent. They seemed to have decided that Lex and Jesse had been the bestest, closest of friends for many years and that Jesse’s death had crippled Lex utterly.
‘It says here that I’ve spent every day since my dear friend’s demise walking the deck of my ship and staring out to sea.’
‘ Every day?’ Jesse said. ‘Heck, I only died yesterday.’
Lex shrugged. ‘Time moves slower when you’re grieving. Apparently I’m refusing food, too,’ he said, squinting back at the newspaper.
The papers were full of photos from the feast and the first round of Jesse and Lex together looking companionable, whereas any photo of Jeremiah that appeared tended to veer towards the unflattering side, showing him with his eyes half closed or his mouth half open. Overnight, he had become the villain of the piece despite the fact that he had won the first round. Everyone hated his guts. Lex was smugly satisfied. It was worth losing the first round for a result like this.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Lex said when they reached Olaree the next day. ‘I think I might stay at the hotel after all.’
‘What for?’ Lady Luck said. ‘I thought you were going to stay on the ship.’
‘It’s too good an opportunity to pass up,’ Lex replied. ‘I’ve got the part of a grieving friend to play.’
Olaree was a snob town. It was full of posh buildings and fancy sidewalks and rich people. There was to be a welcome dinner for the players that night. Lex’s ship arrived several hours before Jeremiah’s and, within half an hour, people had left a veritable forest of flowers on the dock beside his boat. Some of the bouquets were quite frighteningly huge and elaborate. Clearly the rich people of Olaree subscribed to the belief that nothing says ‘sorry your friend is dead’ quite like a spray-painted silver fir-cone. There was even one particularly inventive flower arrangement in the shape of a cowboy hat.
‘Why are they making such a fuss about it?’ Lex asked, peering out at the harbour from a corner of the window in his room. ‘People die in Games all the time.’
‘It’s several things, dear,’ Lady Luck replied. ‘It’s partly the fact that Jesse is so good looking, in a rough-and-ready kind of way; it’s partly that he died heroically saving a child’s life rather than merely trying to win the Game; it’s partly that Tess East is such a sweet-looking thing and so everyone wanted Jesse to save her; and it’s partly that you’re a young boy, now playing the dangerous Game all alone. People love all that.’
‘They’re a fickle bunch,’ Lex replied, remembering how they had all cheered and cheered for Jeremiah before they decided they hated him.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘Well, at least it makes it easier for me to cheat and rob them.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Before leaving the ship for the welcome dinner that evening, Lex went to his wardrobe and picked an outfit that was entirely black. He was supposed to be in mourning, after all. He’d always had naturally pale skin and this was emphasised even more by the dark clothes. As a finishing touch he rubbed a small amount of shampoo into his eyes. It stung like hell but, after half an hour, they stopped streaming and merely looked a little bloodshot? like the eyes of someone who hasn’t slept a wink the night before because they’ve been up all night wringing their hands over their fallen comrade. Before leaving the ship, Lex sternly warned Jesse to stay well out of sight, away from the windows, and not to go anywhere near the deck.
The Majestic Hotel was not far from the dock but they had sent a carriage, anyway. Lex was extremely pleased with the hotel from the outset. It was the sort of place that had chandeliers, and desserts fashioned in the shape of swans, and waiters wearing spotless gloves. It was the most decadent, luxurious hotel Lex had ever seen. It was the sort of place that suited him. He was made for fancy hotels, not grubby farms. But he was careful not to allow any of his pleasure to show on his face, for he had a moping part to play tonight. Indeed, to anyone who saw him, Lex Trent had the look of a person who hardly knew where he was and didn’t care either.
He was aware of people shooting sympathetic glances his way as he followed the porter through the sumptuous lobby to the reception desk. And then? quite perfectly? when he gave his name, the man behind the desk replied instantly, ‘Ah, yes. Welcome to the Majestic, Mr Trent. We have a suite reserved for you and your companion on the top floor. Will Mr Layton be joining you shortly, sir?’
Everyone? but everyone? in Olaree knew that Jesse was tragically dead. Everyone, it seemed, but this man. The people milling about within earshot gasped at the dreadful, awful, unforgivable faux pas and shot anxious glances at Lex. Seizing the moment, Lex willed the colour to drain from his face (a trick he had taught himself some while ago, along with blushing). He swallowed hard and allowed a tremor to creep into his voice as he said, ‘Jesse… Mr Layton.. won’t be joining me shortly. Or ever. He’s dead.’
‘Oh, you poor dear!’ exclaimed an enormously fat woman nearby who was wearing a lot of lace and the largest floppy hat that Lex had ever seen. She turned a withering glare on the unfortunate receptionist and said, ‘It’s too dreadful of you, really it is! I never dreamt that any staff of the Majestic could be so insensitive! Don’t you know that this poor boy’s companion lost his life saving a little girl in the last round?’ She was practically quivering with outrage.
The receptionist looked horrified and hastily started apologising. Within seconds, an important-looking manager was bearing down on them all. When he realised what the problem was he dismissed the receptionist on the spot.
Quite a little crowd had gathered around them by this point so Lex took the opportunity to say gravely, ‘Please, sir, as a special favour to me, do not dismiss this man. Jesse wouldn’t… He wouldn’t have wanted that.’ Cripes, he could practically feel the swell of almost ferocious approval emanating from the people around him.
The receptionist was ushered away but the manager assured Lex that he would be allowed to keep his job. Then the manager himself took Lex’s bag and escorted him across the lobby to the elevator, during which time Lex had a grand total of three lace handkerchiefs pressed into his hand by women who seemed completely intent on comforting him, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually crying. Of course, if Lex had been playing any part but himself then he would have been wailing his head off by now, but he wasn’t acting a part as the Shadowman or the Wizard or Trent Lexington. He was? technically, at least? being Lex Trent. And, although he certainly wanted people underestimating him, he didn’t really want them believing him to be a weakling who couldn’t keep his emotions under control.