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 should 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.”
Oh. “You heard my message, then?”
“Of course I did.”
I wanted to ask her so much, but I didn’t want to put her in the middle again. “I might go for a calzone.”
“You always go for the calzone.”
“Not always.”
She snorted, laid aside her menu, and changed tracks. “You can ask me.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Don’t play dumb, although you try to do it so well. You can ask me about Roger.”
I relented. “What did he do when he heard the message?”
Fran sighed and began pouring water while we waited for our other drinks to arrive. “At first he was happy, really relieved you had finally come round. Then he had time to think about it and got shitty it took so long.”
“Oh.”
“Now he’s decided to play the arsehole and avoid you. Even though he still talks about you incessantly and worries about you. You should have heard him the night of the Brownlow. Oh, I hope Simon’s okay. He’s probably not dealing with it too well.”
I smiled faintly. Fran could always do a good Roger impression, greatly exaggerated of course. “I tried calling you that day.”
She sipped at her water, trying to hide a slightly guilty expression. “I know. I ignored it.”
“I thought so.”
“Well, I was trying to be the good wife! But I had to be the bad friend to do it.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t try to sound too magnanimous there, Simon. A lot of this is your fault.”
“I know.” I wasn’t trying to rile her up; I was just admitting the truth. It didn’t stop her from looking at me suspiciously, though.
“How were you that night?”
“Better than I thought I would be, surprisingly enough.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but maybe that’s all because of context.”
“What context?”
I filled her in on the phone call with Jasper, and how I hadn’t heard from Dec since. Fran grasped my hand sympathetically, only dropping it when the food arrived and she could no longer have her arm across the table.
“No wonder you look so frigging miserable,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, Simon.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but it’s what a friend’s supposed to say.”
I nodded.
“I think Dec has the right idea, but, I mean, Jasper Brunswick could just be trying to get info out of you. He doesn’t know for sure.”
“He probably does now.”
“But he told you he wouldn’t print it.”
“Can I trust him?”
Fran shrugged. “I wish I knew. When does the Reach Out come out, pardon the pun?”
“Every Thursday.”
“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow. Maybe that’s why Declan’s in hiding. He’s just sweating it out.”
“I wish he would speak to me. This is the second time he’s done it, just run off and hid. I guess it’s his thing.”
“Here’s a thought: have you called him?”
I squirmed in my seat under her unflinching expression. “No.”
Fran groaned, her head in her hands. “What the hell are we going to do with you?”
“I don’t want to look like I’m pushing him. He’s gone into hiding for a reason. Maybe he needs some alone time without me bothering him. Maybe it’s the way he copes.”
“And maybe he wants you to run after him a little. So he knows you give a shit.”
“I do give a shit. He knows that.”
Fran looked like she was going to start beating her head against the table. “Why do I try to give you advice? You never bloody listen!”
“Fran—”
“No, seriously! I tell you to call Roger before it blows up into something bigger, and you let it go to the point where he’s too upset with you now you can be bothered. And you’re going to do the same thing with Declan! You’re a fucking idiot.”
Wow, that was harsh. But maybe true.
Who am I kidding? She was right. If Fran’s eyes were lasers, I would have been a smoking pile of ash by now.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I promise you, I’ll call him. And I won’t give up on Roger. I’ll call him again.”
She sighed with relief. “Thank you! Now, do you want to share tiramisu after we eat?”
I did.
WITH the righteous fire of Fran’s wrath burning within me, I sent Nyssa to lunch once I got back. Alone in the office, I felt some of that fire leave me, but I knew I had to pick up the phone; maybe not in the service of earning my paycheck, but at least to try and salvage my personal life on two fronts.
I called Roger first. His mobile went to message-bank, which wasn’t a surprise. He was usually hard to get at work anyway. I left a message saying I hoped we could catch up soon.
The ball was in his court again. I wondered what the shelf life of payback was.
When I called Dec he answered almost immediately.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m glad you called. Hang on a minute.”
I could hear him moving, and the unmistakable sound of a door shutting.
“Hey, I’m back.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at my folks’.”
“Oh.”
“How are you?”
“Fine,” I said. “You?”
Oh yeah, this was going great.
“Better.”
“Better as in you weren’t fine?”
“I had a minor panic attack, yeah,” he admitted.
“Well, why didn’t you call me?”
“I knew you were already stressed enough.”
“To be honest, you stressed me out even more by disappearing and not talking to me,” I said in a measured tone.
He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Silence fell.
“Am I going to see you before you go away?” I asked.
“Of course you are, don’t be stupid.”
He and the rest of the Devils would be leaving the Monday after the Grand Final to go on their end-of-season trip to New Zealand. It was a tradition that every club followed, and more party-hard destinations such as Las Vegas were now frowned upon after a few cases of questionable behaviours and stomach pumpings hit the press.
“Well, I didn’t know what to think when I didn’t hear from you.”
“I said I was sorry, Simon.” He sounded tired.
“Look, I didn’t call you to berate you. I just wanted to know you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“And I wanted to know if we were okay.”
“We are.”
“Good. I’ll let you go then.”
“Hey, wait a minute.”
“What?”
“We’re okay.”
“You said that already.”
“I wanted to repeat it.”
“I—”
“Shit, someone’s coming. I’ve gotta go. Call you later.”
The line disconnected, and I stared at my phone, willing him back onto it. I hung up just as I heard Nyssa coming back into the office and went to meet her and make a much-needed cup of coffee.