Tigers and Devils

by Sean Kennedy

  “And you, Declan?” Himbo asked, in a tone that suggested that Declan, like any real man, would probably have no idea.

  Which of course, Jess helped perpetuate by stepping in. “He would probably just tell you it’s a tux, but it is by the same designer.”

  Declan gave a self-deprecating shrug of the shoulders, and all four on the carpet laughed as if they were at the end of a Scooby-Doo episode.

  Maggie suddenly gave a little sneer from my lap, and I rubbed behind her ear proudly. “Good girl.”

  I SAT through the whole three-hour ceremony with more gusto than past years, mainly because I perked up every time Declan appeared on screen. He dominated the voting in the first three rounds, with the most votes for each. Of course, everybody knew that wouldn’t last. The fourth round was when he got injured, and after that his name didn’t show up on the scoreboard again. Abe made quite a good showing, being the highest-ranked Devil player, but he wasn’t in serious contention for the medal either.

  If you’ve never seen a Brownlow ceremony it can be like watching paint dry, even if you’re the most passionate football fan in existence. Players are awarded points per game and per round by the umpires, based upon their decision of who has been the best and fairest of the game. Take into account that there are eight games per round, with sixteen teams, and twenty-two rounds per season… that’s a lot of counting you have to sit through. It’s kind of like listening to a really long Bingo game. But I watched until the credits rolled and got to see Declan one last time as he solicitously helped Jess out of her seat and they walked over to Abe and Lisa. I felt one last little stab of jealousy. Hey, they’re meant to be my friends now as well!

  I shook it off.

  “That’s that, then,” I said to Maggie. She opened her eyes and looked up at me languidly, probably thinking for the millionth time that her human was completely stupid. “Time for bed.”

  She followed me into the bedroom, knowing she would be able to sucker me into giving her one of the kitty treats kept on the bedside table. Of course I acquiesced and could hear her crunching it in the dark as I drifted off to sleep.

  I WAS woken abruptly by someone climbing in to bed with me.

  Groggily, I flailed about, on the verge of panic until I heard a familiar voice say my name.

  It was Declan.

  “Fuck, you scared me.” I leaned over and switched on the bankers’ lamp. He was sitting on what had become his side of my bed, still struggling to pull off the white shirt that had come with his tux. I had no idea how he’d managed to get his pants off without me hearing him.

  “Sorry,” he slurred.

  I had given him a key ages ago, but he had never had cause to use it like this, at this hour of the morning. I wasn’t used to someone letting themselves into my house when I was asleep. My heart was still pounding furiously; I could hear its thud in my ears.

  “Let me help you with that,” I said, and I managed to deftly pull off the shirt and the singlet beneath it in one move.

  “You’re good at that,” he said rakishly.

  “Wow, you really got into the free booze, huh?” I asked, amused as I had never really seen him this plastered before.

  “It was there,” he said, his eyes at half-mast. “And I was thirsty.”

  He fell back into bed with a heavy sigh and tried to cover himself with the doona. It twisted around his legs, and I had to get them sorted.

  “I thought you were going to crash at Jess’s tonight?”

  “Turn off the light,” he moaned. “It’s too bright.”

  I did so, and as I settled back upon my pillow he rolled over to use me as one. His breath reeked, and I knew he would feel the pains of a major hangover in the morning.

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “Robyn drove me,” he murmured. “Only too glad to get rid of me. She hates me.”

  “Who could hate you?” I teased. I felt Maggie jump up upon the bed and snuggle between our feet.

  “Robyn. Because of my magical lesbian-curing dick.”

  I laughed so hard, his head almost rolled off my chest. “I don’t think it’s done too good a job of curing Jess so far.”

  “Only ’cos we haven’t done it.”

  All I could do was laugh again. “You’ve got tickets on yourself.”

  “It cured you, didn’t it?”

  “Well, I’m not a lesbian, so I guess it must have.”

  “There you go,” he said, sounding very satisfied with himself.

  “I wish I was recording this,” I told him. “You would be so embarrassed in the morning if you heard it.”

  “As long as I’m here in the morning,” he yawned. “This was where I wanted to be all night, so that’s why I came here.”

  There was a deliciously gooey feeling in my belly, damn it. “I’m flattered.”

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  I was stunned, unable to breathe or think.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, suddenly sounding not quite so drunk.

  I couldn’t say anything. All I could think was that this wasn’t the time—as I had told Fran what seemed like years ago now, first declarations of love should not be spoken lightly. And definitely not while drunk. I wondered how I could say all that without hurting his feelings when I realised he had fallen asleep.

  I lay there for ages, his breath warm against my chest, thinking that I had fucked up again.

  Chapter 17

  IT WAS impossible to rouse Declan in the morning. He moaned incoherently as I brought in a glass of water and some painkillers and told him I was leaving for work. He pulled the pillow over his head, and I could only laugh and leave them beside him.

  But I still felt guilty as I remembered his last words to me before falling asleep. I tried to think about something else, anything else, on the tram ride in to work, but it was continually nagging at me in the back of my mind. I had no idea how it was going to come up, and how Declan was going to react to my lack of response once his hangover wore off.

  He and Jess had made the newspapers, of course. Their shining, smiling mugs leered at me from the paper of the guy sitting across from me. It was nice to see, however, that Lisa was voted one of the best dressed of the night.

  The morning passed pretty uneventfully as I waited for Declan to call, but my direct line never rang. However, Nyssa passed through a call that made me sweat with dread.

  “Simon, Jasper Brunswick on line one.”

  I almost fell off my chair.

  “Nyssa, take a message.”

  “He said it’s urgent.”

  Jasper Brunswick? Urgent? Oh, this couldn’t be good.

  “Isn’t that the same jerk who used to work here before I did?” Nyssa asked, her voice extraordinarily loud through the speaker.

  “One and the same,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “He’s not trying to get a job here again, is he?”

  “He’d think it was beneath him now,” I told her.

  “Good,” Nyssa said, satisfied her job wasn’t in danger. “So, shall I put him through?”

  I groaned. “Fine.”

  There was a slight squawk through the speaker as Nyssa changed lines. “Putting you through now.” Her usually charming tone to clients and sponsors was not to be heard; she obviously still saw Jasper as a potential threat.

  I picked up the handset. “Simon Murray.”

  “Simon, Jasper Brunswick.”

  “So Nyssa told me. What can I do for you?” I asked, trying to affect a casual tone although I was intrigued despite myself.

  “Well, Simon, it’s more what I can do for you.” His voice was somehow even oilier over the phone than it was in person.

  “Is this about a piece on the festival again? Because I’m pretty sure your editor has already lined up an interview.”

  “No, Simon. In fact, this is much more of a personal matter.”

  My skin crawled. He surely wasn’t bringing that up again, was he? I shou
ld have given Nyssa a timeframe in which to come in and save me. “Oh?”

  “Yes. As I’m sure you’re aware, my column—”

  I was pretty sure that I had told him that I never read his column, and that was the truth, but of course Jasper was never one to allow the truth get in the way of his own agenda. “Uh-huh.”

  “No need to sound snobby, Simon. I told you, I’m calling as a friend.”

  I winced. “Actually, you never said that. And, really, we’re not friends.”

  He sighed. “Fine. As ex-colleagues then.”

  “I’m more comfortable with that.”

  “I’d be nicer to me if I were you.”

  “Stop dicking around, and just tell me what you want.”

  He hesitated.

  “Jasper—”

  “My column likes to tell secrets.”

  “Yeah, I thought that was the point of a gossip column.”

  “It’s much more than a gossip column, Simon.”

  What? Was he trying to say that it was actually biting social commentary? I let it slide. “Okay. But what’s that got to do with this call?”

  I could hear his pause for obvious dramatic effect. “One thing I’ve never stooped to doing is to out people. That’s their own decision to make. And I’ve had quite a few people tell me recently that you’re off the scene.”

  A small rivulet of sweat suddenly ran down my neck and through my shoulder blades. “I was never on the scene,” I pointed out as calmly as I could.

  “So you say. But these people say that the guy you’re seeing, well, he’s definitely not in any way out, and it could be quite detrimental for him to be so.”

  Feeling like a character in a noir movie, and just as desperate, I said hoarsely, “Is that a threat?”

  “So you’re not denying it?”

  Fuck. If I were in a noir movie I would have been dead before the second act, I was so green at this. “You haven’t given me a name to deny.”

  Good. Regained some ground there.

  “I don’t think I have to. I can hear it in your voice.” Jasper sounded smug. “I have to say, you’re a dark horse, Simon. I didn’t think you would be able to pull someone like that.”

  “And as usual, the gossip you’re talking about is unsubstantiated and full of crap,” I said, not the finest comeback imaginable.

  “Don’t get so defensive. I told you, I don’t out anybody.”

  “Then why are you calling?”

  “To let you know that no secret ever remains that way. You’re not as careful as you think you are.” He paused so he could get me with his next comment. “And to get confirmation. Just to let you know, if it does come out, you’re fair game to me. I’ll publish everything I can get on you and your footballer.”

  “Thanks for the call,” I said snidely.

  “Just trying to be a friend,” Jasper said, sounding hurt. And damned if I couldn’t even tell if he was being honest or not anymore.

  “Thanks, friend.” I hung up the phone.

  Now I was off the call and could let the façade drop, I actually shivered. My body felt overheated, and my shirt was sticking to my back. I wanted to call Dec, but paranoia had settled in, and I was entertaining the idea that Jasper had tapped my phone to confirm who my next call would be to.

  This could not be happening. And it was my fault, because I knew Jasper Brunswick. He could find entry into our lives because of me. I was suddenly scared of what Dec might think.

  Nyssa stuck her head inside the door. “Did he want his old job back?”

  I looked up at her. “Nyss, I’m not feeling well. Will you be okay if I go home?”

  Nyssa looked at me with concern. “You’re sweating.”

  “It must be a fever,” I lied.

  “I can handle things,” she said.

  “You’re my trooper, Nyss.”

  I felt her eyes upon me as I grabbed my bag and coat and hurried out the door.

  DECLAN looked almost as sick as I felt. But his panic had the unfortunate effects of a hangover mixed with it.

  “Well?” I asked him, anxious to get an answer. What I really wanted him to tell me was, yes, I was paranoid and everything was going to be fine.

  “I don’t know,” he said finally.

  “What?” I asked, dumbstruck.

  “What do you want me to say, Simon? I don’t know.”

  “You think this is my fault, don’t you?”

  If it were possible, he looked even more perplexed. “Did I say that?”

  “Not in so many words, no.”

  “You must think it’s your fault, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Well, I do know the guy. Unfortunately.”

  “That doesn’t make it your fault.” He held the bridge of his nose, willing away the pain in his head.

  “You say that, but do you mean it?”

  Exasperated, he dropped his hand. “Are you trying to make me mad, so I do blame you?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I want some kind of reaction out of you!”

  “You want me to panic?”

  “Something!”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to panic. The guy never even said my name.”

  “He said ‘footballer’, you don’t think that’s close enough?”

  Declan was silent.

  “Dec….”

  “He said he wasn’t going to do anything about it, right?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But other people told him. What if they tell?”

  “From what you’ve told me of this guy, his few people could just be one person.”

  “I wish I knew for sure.”

  Declan looked at me sadly. “I’ve made you so fucking paranoid, haven’t I?”

  “I was paranoid a long time before I met you,” I told him.

  He tried to laugh, but it was halfhearted. “Look, we can’t go crazy. If other people know, although I really have no idea who unless there are spies on this street who have bugged this house, they haven’t told anybody else.”

  “For all we know.”

  “If they told someone who wanted to out me, it would have been done by now. Unless you think they’re so evil they’re waiting for the perfect moment.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” I admitted.

  “And when I said that, you got shitty.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  We sat there, just staring at each other across the table. We both felt compelled to say something, to break the silence but words were having difficulty forming naturally.

  Finally, Declan said, “You didn’t have to come home from work just to tell me.”

  “Christ, Dec, aren’t you at all worried?”

  “Of course I am!” he hissed, but sat back and calmed down. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “I just don’t want you to end up blaming me.”

  “I won’t,” he replied.

  I wanted to believe him. But I didn’t know what I could believe at that moment. I tried to shift the atmosphere in the space between us into a lighter one. “Well, I now have the benefit of an unexpected day off.”

  I waggled my eyebrows, hoping to get a laugh out of him, but he just gave a tired smile.

  “I told my parents I would meet them for lunch. I better get ready.” He stood up, and moved around me to head to the bathroom. He rested his hand briefly on my shoulder, nothing else, before leaving the room.

  I sat there and listened to the water starting to run through the pipes.

  THE distance that seemed to have popped up the instant I got home only increased as he got ready to go out. He packed his bag, which meant he wasn’t expecting to come back today. I didn’t say anything; just accepted it. I didn’t want to turn into Scarlett begging Rhett not to leave her, as it would be far too camp and melodramatic for my liking. It was far more likely he had to get away and mull over it, like he had with our
awkward first date.

  It didn’t make me feel any happier or secure, though.

  He said he’d call me that night, but he didn’t. I felt miserable the next morning and called in sick to work, ignoring the sound of panic in Nyssa’s voice and her reminder the festival was only a month away.

  I called Roger. I don’t want it to come across like I only called him because I was desperate. I missed my best friend, and I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to have all this bullshit between us cleared up, but I still had the nagging feeling he was right and what was happening with me at the moment would only prove his suspicions. And I didn’t want Roger to be right because that would mean further trouble ahead for me and Declan, and probably even me and Roger again.

  Roger didn’t call. And I didn’t hear from Declan either.

  The next morning found me back at work, practically dragging my bag along the ground being Charlie Brown on suicide watch. Nyssa was relieved to see me turn up, and there was a hell of a lot of work to be done so I was easily distracted from thinking about the disaster my life seemed to be at the moment.

  I could have almost cried when Fran called me.

  “Hey,” she said, and that one word in her usual warm manner would have made me cry if I were afraid I wouldn’t stop.

  “Hi,” I replied. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Yours too, hon. Can you do lunch?”

  Almost as if life was back to normal.

  She hugged me when I entered the restaurant, and I clung to her for a little while longer than I normally would have. She was nice enough not to say anything about it, and we sat down.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact,” she said. “But, you know—”

  “Nothing for you to be sorry about. I guess it was easier to let things slide for a while.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” she said, and the tone in her voice made me back up.

  “You know what I meant.”

  She nodded. “When you were being the stubborn shit, it was easy to blame you for the awkwardness between us. Now Roger’s being the stubborn shit, it’s easy to blame him.”