Chapter 22
“SIMON,” Dec murmured into my ear, “they’re back.”
On that ominous note, I opened my eyes and groaned. “It was too good to last.”
While Scott Frasier was still dealing with the hordes at Etihad, I had left work early, and Declan and I had holed up in my house, determined not to answer the door or the phone in preparation of the second wave of attack.
After we had breakfast, we faced the media together in order to get to the car. They threw questions at us, but we pushed through until we unlocked the doors and Declan said, “You got your statement yesterday. That’s enough for now.”
It obviously wasn’t enough for now, judging by the way they pressed against us and started yelling, hoping volume alone would make us respond.
Declan was meeting with members of his team at Etihad in some sort of preemptive get-together where everybody could air their feelings about how his coming out would affect them all. The rest of the team would be connected via video conference.
“They really push the psychology angle nowadays, don’t they?” I asked as we turned out of my street, referring to the club’s nicey-nice share-our-feelings approach.
“It’s all very by the book,” Dec agreed. “Sometimes I wonder if a few beers down at the local would get better results.”
“Oh yeah, alcohol, extreme masculinity, and controversy. Can’t see anything bad resulting from that.”
“At least it would all come out. No pun intended.”
We couldn’t help but laugh at it anyway.
When he pulled over to let me off on Bourke Street, he surprised me by leaning in and kissing me. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” I murmured, and I stumbled out the door.
It felt weird to have gone from hiding everything and being so careful to him suddenly being so cavalier. So far everything had gone really well for him; the backlash wasn’t starting to appear (as it inevitably would), everybody that he dealt with personally had been supportive. There had been no reaction from Joe Public he had seen yet. In his view at the moment everything was hunky-dory, and I felt shitty about waiting for the bubble to burst. I had been there before; I knew the pattern. I didn’t want to be the one to burst it for him, but sooner or later he would hit his first of many walls.
I felt even more shitty when it only took a few hours. It was as if I had cursed him and made it become possible. Was I Cassandra reincarnated?
He appeared in the doorway of my office; Nyssa had told him to go straight through. She had gone in search of the office medkit and icepack even though the doctor at the Etihad’s gym had already looked at him.
“Don’t panic,” he said, because my face must have already been showing what I myself hadn’t even recognised as feeling yet.
I was out of my chair and across the room to him before he even took a step. “Who the hell did that to you?”
His jaw was bruised, the skin broken around the edge of his lip to show blood that was fresh even now, peeking out around the ends of the butterfly bandage attached to his skin. He winced as I gently inspected it, and he pulled my hands down.
“It was that bloody Geoff Hendricks, wasn’t it?” I demanded.
I had never liked Hendricks; he always seemed too full of himself on the field, even by footballer standards.
“It wasn’t Geoff.” He looked at me, with what seemed like a new light in his eyes. “You look fucking mad.”
“I am fucking mad!”
“What, are you going to go up there and defend my honour?”
“Give me a minute, and I will!” And I meant it. I was on fire, ready to let out all the frustration had been ebbing and flowing in me lately onto whoever had done this to him.
“That’s very noble of you, but I really don’t want you beating up Jess’s dad.”
“What?” That revelation forced me to sit down.
Nyssa appeared behind him with the icepack and handed it to me. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“Thanks, Nyssa, this’ll do,” he told her, giving her a small smile.
Nyssa looked at me for confirmation; I gave her a grateful nod.
Declan took the pack off me and moved across the room to sink gratefully into one of the chairs. He held the pack against his jaw and gave a deep breath.
“Okay, you have to fill me in,” I said, walking over to him.
“Can I just give you the abridged version?”
“No.” I pulled my chair around my desk so I could sit beside him. I checked over his hands; no defensive wounds. He hadn’t fought back. Whether that was good, I couldn’t decide yet.
“The meeting actually went pretty well,” he said finally. “I mean, the real test will be when we go back to training. You know, there were a few jokes, but it was all pretty easygoing. When we walked out, though, Jess’s dad was there. And he just punched me. I didn’t even see it coming, just heard him ranting about betraying his daughter, you know, that kind of stuff.”
“Sounds like a bad soap opera.”
“It was.” He managed a smile, even though it was probably a bit painful. “I’m just glad it was inside Etihad’s inner sanctum and the press wasn’t around to capture it on film. I think he was actually about to come in for a second punch when Abe pulled him back. Then security came in and took him out.”
“Took him out? With a gun?” I asked hopefully.
Declan looked at me like I had lost my mind. “No, took him outside, dick.”
“Well, I don’t care if he’s Jess’s dad. I want to take him out. And not outside.”
Declan shook his head, trying not to laugh.
“Shit, Dec, it’s not fair that he’s singled you out when he doesn’t know the full story.”
“Of course he doesn’t know the full story! So what else is he going to think?” Declan asked. “In his eyes, his poor daughter has been used and abused by the guy who would and could never love her. She’s the victim, and I’m the bad guy. The evil, predatory fag breaking her heart to further his career.”
“I thought predatory fag was my role,” I said, trying to make him smile.
He didn’t. “Don’t.”
I gingerly stroked his injured hand. “You’re not a bad guy. It’s just the way it was.”
“Jess and I were stupid to think it could ever work.”
“No offence, Dec,” I said gently, “I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.”
He nodded. “Probably. I just wonder what Jess is going to do.”
I kept my mouth shut. Wisely. I hoped Jess would have the courage not to let Declan take the fall for her actions as well as his own. The irony was not lost on me; this was an exact repeat of Dec’s position only a few days before, where he had the choice to continue the charade or step up.
I don’t think the irony was lost on him either, but he looked too exhausted to acknowledge it.
“Why don’t you go back to my house?” I suggested. “I still have to work here for a while, but you should get some rest.”
“It’s not rest I need,” Dec said tiredly.
“Well, go and see your folks or something. We can see each other later.”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“No. You can crash here if you want.”
He stared down at his feet. “Is the floor comfortable?”
“I’ve never slept on it.” I shrugged. “I only usually crumple on it in a ball when something goes wrong here.”
“I’ll go back to your place,” Dec said. “Have a nap and a drink.” He stood, for a moment seeming unsteady on his feet. “See you later.”
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, because he felt he had to. And I had to accept it, because I had to.
But when he gave me a quick kiss, I could taste his blood on my lips, and it made me feel sick, vulnerable, and mad as hell.
THE sun had just about disappeared over the horizon when I got home, and my already troubled stomach fell into even further disrepute when I noticed the media presence on my street was even bigger than usual.
The scrummage for my attention started as soon as I pulled into my driveway. Yet the first person to get in my face was not from one of the major networks, but one of my neighbours.
Dale Watson. Somebody whom I avoided at the best of times.
“Simon, we need to have a word,” she said firmly.
“Kinda busy, in case you haven’t noticed,” I replied.
“Have I noticed?” she fumed. “You can’t help but notice!”
I couldn’t help but notice that although the media were packed in tightly, they were being strangely silent. And I realised Dale was gearing up for a confrontation.
While courting the press at the same time.
“I’m sorry for the chaos around here lately,” I said smoothly. “Believe me, it’s not something I want either.”
“And yet look at all this,” Dale said grandly.
“It will blow over soon. Some soapie star or politician will get done for a DUI, and I’ll be forgotten about.”
I could hear some press members snicker at this; they knew it to be true.
“That’s not good enough! Everybody on this street has been putting up with this crap for far too long!”
“There’s nothing I can do about it,” I repeated, just wanting to get inside.
“No,” Dale said coldly. “The only time something could have been done was stopping the likes of you from moving here in the first place.”
I was gratified to hear some astounded whispers from the press at her outburst.
Did she really think that would upset me, though? I’ve heard far worse directed at me during my life. There had been better insults when I was in primary school, for fuck’s sake, and I wasn’t even out then.
“If we could decide who could and couldn’t move into our neighbourhoods,” I said, “then I would have made sure we had an anti-old-nosey-bigots policy before you moved in.”
More laughter from the peanut gallery.
It would have become even more heated, I could see the hate screwing up her face as she tried to think up a comeback, but everybody assembled around my car was distracted by the front door of my house opening and Declan stepping out onto the veranda.
The press immediately made a beeline for him, calling his name.
And then Jess stepped out behind him.
I groaned inwardly. They were going to have a field day with this.
“Oh, look,” Dale said nastily, a satisfied smirk on her face. “It’s your boyfriend’s girlfriend.”
I was stumped for a comeback; all I could do was roll my eyes.
The throng was also momentarily stumped by Jess’s presence, but they were well practiced in responding to the unexpected scoop, calling her name and hurling cheeky questions at her.
“Jess! Are the rumours true that your father attacked Declan this afternoon?”
“Jess, how are you dealing with Declan’s revelation?”
“Jess, did you know Declan was gay before he came out?”
Who was that journalist with the inane questions? Was it some high schooler on work experience? Because, crap, they needed to up their game if they wanted to survive in this profession.
Declan looked back at Jess; she nodded at him and moved around to take centre stage.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” she said in a loud, clear voice. “And I’m not sure if I will be as eloquent as Dec was yesterday. But the truth is, I am not the victim as some of you seem to enjoy making me out to be.”
Oh frig. Here it goes again. Did someone call a national coming out week and forget to tell me? At least they might have notified me it was taking place on my front doorstep. I would have gone round to the back entrance.
“Declan and I have always had an understanding; a marriage of convenience, if you will, without the marriage. We acted as support for each other when we needed it. I also am gay and happily living with my partner.”
I thought Dale Watson was about to explode under the weight of her own prejudice. It would have been entertaining had it happened, for her to spontaneously combust like that shopkeeper from Dickens’ Bleak House. Unfortunately she remained breathing, although heavily so.
Ignoring the hubbub that had erupted, Jess put up her hands. “I hope now that this is out in the open, there can be an end to the stories depicting Declan as some sort of coward or user. We both knew what we were doing, and now we’re both happy to live our lives openly, as we should have always done.”
Okay, that last line was a little sanctimonious, but it would play well to the public who claimed to feel “betrayed by the deception” even though they had no right to be.
“Declan, do you have anything else to add?” asked one of the reporters from the ABC.
“Nope, not today,” Declan said cheerfully. He caught my eye and nodded for me to slip past the press into my own house and away from the madness.
As I made my way to the sound of cameras flashing yet again, I heard Dale Watson from behind me.
“This neighbourhood is going to the dogs!” she yelled uselessly and rather stupidly.
I grinned at Dec as he pulled me up the steps. I turned back to the press and faced Dale down.
“Woof bloody woof!” I said, unable to keep a straight face.
It was just as stupid a response as Dale’s, but it was effective. We had the media on our side for the moment, and they laughed while Dale slunk away deflated.
Declan’s hand snuck into mine, and this only made the cameras spring into action. “Good-bye, ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he said warmly, but firmly. They understood what he meant. He had given them what they wanted, one hell of a show and one great photo opportunity. Now it was time for them to throw in the towel. Perhaps only just for now, because we couldn’t expect them to give up entirely. But they all drifted away and started packing up their vans as we made our way into the house and closed the front door behind us.
“You are such a dork,” Dec said with a laugh.
“Yeah, well look at you with your power trip,” I countered.
“They’re probably just moving onto my doorstep now,” Jess sighed.
Not to be mean, but probably not. She wasn’t in the public domain like Declan; interest in her would be short-lived. Just like I would always be in Dec’s shadow. But apparently, as the song says, I would be the wind beneath his wings or some kind of crap like that.
“Anyway,” she continued and turned to face me. “Sorry, Simon.”
“Huh? You have nothing to apologise to me for.”
“Well, I did kind of use your front lawn for my own press conference.” She took a deep breath and shook slightly as she exhaled. “And I’m sure you weren’t impressed with my father using Dec as a punching bag.”
“It’s still not your fault,” I said honestly.
“Believe me, he’s now pissed at me. He’s embarrassed by the fact he went after Dec when he didn’t know the full story.”
“Jess,” Dec said. “It’s okay.”
“Stop going for the fucking saint of the year, okay? You have enough awards.”
He gave her the finger, and she laughed.
“Seriously, though. I’ll make sure the old fart apologises to you at some point.”
“Look,” Declan replied, his face grave. “I’m sure he would rather just forget about it. And to tell you the truth, I would too. So just tell him that.”
Jess reached up and kissed him. “Thanks, Dec.”
She then surprised me by kissing me on the cheek. “Take care, Simon.”
“Say hi to Robyn for me,” Dec said, a tad evilly.
Jess gave him a sarcastic smile. “I will. Jesus, she always wanted me to come out, but I bet she didn’t think it would involve the press in such a spectacular fashion.”
“Maybe she can stop hating me now.”
“Don’t count on it.” Jess opened the front door and peered out. “The coast is clear.”
And it was. Jess walked to her car without disturbance, and we watched her drive off.
“So,” Dec said slowly, as he closed the door and turned back to face me.
“So,” I repeated back to him.
“What do you think happens now?” he asked.
Right now I had some idea, but for the short-term future? I looked blankly at him, and he grinned tiredly.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”
IT’S funny what life can have in store for you, though.
“I used to worry about him,” Mrs. Tyler said to me. “When he was going out with Jess, or what I thought was going out… they just didn’t seem like a couple to me, although my husband told me I was being silly. I think deep down a mother knows, even if she doesn’t admit it to herself.” She took a deep breath and sipped from her cup of tea, making a face at its lame hospital-strength. “But I worried. I thought he was settling, even though I loved Jess. Just because they didn’t have that connection. So when everything happened last week, and he finally told me, I wasn’t as surprised as I might have been.”
I was back at the scene of the crime: St. Vincent’s Hospital. If you had told me I would be having tea (well, I was having coffee, of course) with Declan’s mother this time last week, I would have thought you meant in some alternate universe. But here we were.
Declan was in his father’s room, making sure all was okay before he brought me in for a formal introduction.
Yes. I was having the official meet-n-greet with the parents. And it seemed to be turning out okay so far. A lot better than the meeting I had had previously in the day with Alice Provotna, who was rather icy at the fact that I hadn’t returned any of her calls and informed me that the angle of her documentary had now changed. Rather than just focus on the upcoming Triple F Festival, she would be including the behind-the-scenes drama of my relationship with “recently uncloseted AFL legend Declan Tyler.” I hadn’t told Dec yet; I was still hoping that I could talk her out of it. Her contract with us stated that she had artistic control, and I cursed myself for letting the lawyers slip it through. Of course, at the time I had no idea what was going to be happening a few months from the date of signing.
“Are you worried now?” I asked Mrs. Tyler, trying not to let my nervousness show.
She looked at me kindly, but I could tell her brain was ticking over as she tried to figure out how she could put her feelings tactfully. “Yes, I am.”
I wished Nyssa was around to make my coffee Irish. I tried to keep my face blank.
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking,” Mrs. Tyler continued. “But a mother never stops worrying. It’s just that now I have something new to worry about. Declan’s found someone, but a whole new set of problems have come with it.”
I wondered if she was referring to me as the major problem, but I remained silent to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m not suggesting that my son’s sexuality….” Here she faltered. “I don’t like saying that word, it sounds so clinical. But you know what I mean. I don’t care that Declan is gay. I just care it means life is going to be difficult for him in certain ways. No parent wants their child to suffer, especially at the hands of other people and what they may believe or not believe. I’d be lying if I said that I’m not dreading the first time he has to go out onto the field or when one of those bozos from the footy shows on the telly start doing their jokes.”
“I worry about that too,” I admitted.
“It doesn’t help he’s wearing a bloody nose and a cut lip from somebody who has been a friend of our family for over twenty years. You wonder what other people who don’t know him are capable of.”
“But if you’re like all other mothers,” I said gently, “then you’re expecting the worse. You may be surprised by some good things as well.”
She smiled at me. “You’re very charming.”
I smirked involuntarily. “Dec says that I can be, but only when I want to be.”
“He says a lot of good things about you.”
I was starting to squirm under her steady gaze. “He has to talk me up, you realise.”
“Yes, one of the very first things he said was that you were self-deprecating. I see he’s right.”
I coloured. “Well….”
“My son thinks very highly of you, Simon. That’s how I know despite everything else, he is happy. I can see it in him, in the way he never talked about Jess. You can see it in his eyes. You know, when you have a kid in the public eye, yet another thing you worry about is whether people will accept your child for himself, or whether they’re just riding his coattails.”
“You thought I could be doing that?”
“There was part of me wondering if Jess was doing that. Mothers can be the harshest judges of character, but it’s only out of some misguided sense of love. But when Declan told me how you met—”
“Oh, he didn’t, did he?” I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me and put an end to this torture.
“Yes, he told me you insulted him.”
“It was the famous Murray charm you’ve heard about in action.”
Mrs. Tyler smiled, and I could see it was where Declan’s came from. “So I knew you weren’t after him for his fame.”
“No, there’s a lot I love about Declan, and that’s not it.”
Oh crap. I had said the L-word. Slightly panicked, I coughed, my eyes watering.
She watched me with amusement, but looked slightly gratified at my slip of the tongue.
“Plus,” she said, once I had settled down, “you gave up a lot to be with him. You didn’t want the glory of being with him. You were… out… before you met Declan. And you had to stop being so in certain ways in order to protect him. That would have taken a certain amount of sacrifice.”
I didn’t say anything, because I feared it could sound self-serving.
“It’s not going to be much easier from here on.”
“Now you’re sounding like a typical mother,” I told her.
Declan walked out of his dad’s room to find his mother laughing. He smiled nervously at me, and I could tell he was bursting with questions but they would have to wait until we were alone.
“Don’t worry, honey,” his mum said. “I’m saving all the embarrassing stories about you for another time.”
“Just, please, hide the photos of me with the mullet.”
“He never had a mullet,” she told me. “I would never have let him out of the house if he had a mullet!”
“If there’s a mullet in your past, we’re over,” I told him.
“That’s quite a list you’re compiling,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t worry. You’re stuck with me for now.”
“See what I have to put up with?” Dec asked his mother.
She didn’t say anything, but looked at me and pointed to her eyes and then at her son.
I knew what she meant, although it confused Declan. “So are you ready to meet my dad?” he asked.
Hoping that this next family meeting would go as smoothly, I couldn’t help but hear The Imperial March start in my head as I nodded and followed Dec into the room behind us.
Declan’s father looked extremely hale for someone who had just suffered a heart attack. Like his son, he was in great shape. He had been a footy player as well, although he had never made it to the proper AFL, instead being in the higher echelons of the local clubs. Thankfully he had never been a stage father, though, trying to live his dreams vicariously through his son.
“Dad,” Declan said softly, “this is Simon.”
I stuck out my hand to shake his, and it was gripped with a fist of iron.
“So,” Mr. Tyler said with a faint tone of bemusement, “you’re the one who’s turned my son’s world upside down.”
Dec looked about to object, but I was used to fathers with a healthy amount of snark.
“I guess I was a part of it, but I wasn’t the catalyst.”
He nodded. “Call me Barry.”
The nurse entered at that moment with his meds. She gave a start when she saw Declan, and her eyes widened when she saw me in there as well. She had obviously been watching the news. Thankfully the Hippocratic Oath would stop her from running out the door and selling her story to New Idea: “Declan Tyler Brings Gay Lover To Meet Sick Father! Doctors on Standby!”
“Did Fred really do that to you, Dec?” Barry asked, sipping water to wash down the pills as the nurse left us alone again.
Dec fingered his jaw. “Uh, yeah.”
“You didn’t hit him back, did you?”
“No, of course not!”
“Did you, Simon?” Barry asked, amused.
“I wasn’t there,” I replied.
“Would you have?”
“I’m pretty much of a pacifist. Plus, logically, it just would have made things worse, and that’s the last thing Dec needs.”
Barry settled back against his pillows. “Good answer.” He sighed. “I can’t pretend I’m 100 percent dealing with this yet.”
Dec remained silent; I could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Sometimes when kissing him, my tongue would sweep across the raw, constantly healing area, and I would feel a momentary pang of worry. But it wasn’t the right place to be thinking about kissing Dec.
“I think you’ve got other things to worry about,” I said. “Like recuperating.”
“I don’t mean I’m against it or anything,” Barry said quickly. “Just… it is a bit of a shock. I mean, Sylvie said it was in the back of her mind for a while. I just haven’t had the time to think about it.”
“There isn’t much to think about, Dad,” Dec murmured. “It just is.”
“You forget, Declan,” Barry said, his tone swinging right into the tone of a father, “I’ve been on the field as well. Not at the level you are, but I know what the guys can be like. They can be the best people in the world, but if they have you in their sights, you can be in trouble. You don’t think I’m going to be thinking about that the next game you play? Plus the fact you’re still recovering and will have just had another op?”
Damn it, he was starting to make me worry again. And Declan knew it.
“They just have a different reason to now,” Dec said. “It doesn’t make much difference. Before they just went after me because I was apparently the top draw. If they’re going after me for a personal vendetta, they’ll probably fuck up because they’ll be focused on the emotion.”
“When did you get a psychology degree?” his father complained, and then he turned his sights on me. “What do you think, Simon?”
I gave a careful reply. “I think Dec will do whatever he wants to do and thinks is right. And we’ll all have to support that. And be there for him.”
Dec gave me a small smile.
“And if someone guns for him, then they better fucking watch out.”
Dec’s smile faltered, but Barry laughed.
“He seems all right, Dec.”
I could tell Dec was perturbed by my last remark, but happy that his father approved. “Yeah,” he said finally. “He’s okay.”
“THAT went better than I thought it would,” I said to Dec as we walked out of the lift and made our way through the underground parking bays to his car. A couple of people stopped when they saw us and whispered amongst themselves, but we trudged on.
“Yeah, it did. I think Dad’s accepting it better already than he thinks he is.”
“Now you just have to get through meeting my family for the first time.” I shuddered involuntarily.
“You still haven’t met my siblings,” Declan warned me. “My parents are nothing compared to them.”
“Great.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll all be fine.”
I winced. “Don’t jinx it.”
He looked around for something wooden to knock upon, and when he couldn’t find anything, went for the oldest joke in the world and grabbed me in a headlock to rap upon my head. By the time we reached his car, his arm had slipped down to encircle my waist, and it felt damn good.
I WONDERED when things would start to feel normal for Declan and myself or if this was going to be life as we knew it forevermore. It had to be the settling-in period, surely; the meeting of the parents, the first dealings with the press, being called into a meeting with the board of the Devils….
Which was where I found myself now, my arms crossed defensively. Declan sat beside me, slowly swinging from side to side in his chair.
“You’re probably wondering why we wanted to meet with you, Simon,” Scott Frasier said, deciding he would be the one to start things off.
“I have a pretty good idea,” I said. I wondered when the pretty secretary who was meant to be getting me a coffee would be returning.
“Oh?” Ed Wallace, the Devils’ CEO asked. “And what would that be?”
“You probably want to make sure I follow your rules so I’m not more of an embarrassment to the club than you already think I am. Maybe slap a gag order on me.”
I heard Dec give a soft groan as he continued to swing slowly in his chair.
Ed grinned at me. “Bit paranoid, aren’t you, Simon?”
“You tell me,” I volleyed back.
“It’s true we did want to discuss with you a course of action—”
“Hah.” I don’t know who switched the obnoxious button on me, but I knew I was making Dec uncomfortable so I tried to tone it down a little. “So what course of action?”
“The press and the public are expecting to hear your story,” Wallace said. “So we want to try and put you out there to the friendliest outlets we can. We have some ideas, but we want to hear yours and Declan’s as well.”
I named one particularly bozo-ish footy show that aired during the week. “He’s definitely not going on that, for a start. Exposing himself to that dickhead host—”
Declan gave another small groan, and I shot him a look.
“My friend, the dickhead host?” Wallace asked, and some of the other men in the room tried to conceal their smiles unsuccessfully.
“Then if he’s your friend, you know his schtick,” I said coolly. “With the act he puts on, you know Dec wouldn’t get the friendliest welcome.”
Wallace shrugged. “I’ll give you that.”
“Declan?” Scott asked.
“Oh, I can talk now?” Declan said pointedly, mainly to me, and he cleared his throat. “I was thinking anyone on the ABC, if they want to have me on.”
Everybody in the room laughed, but not meanly.
“Declan,” Wallace said amiably. “Everybody wants your story at the moment.”
“Tracey,” Scott said to a perfectly manicured woman sitting across from him. “Get onto the ABC after we finish here.”
“You do know you don’t get paid for going on the ABC?” Tracey asked of Declan.
“I think I get enough money to not have to worry about that,” Declan told her.
“Just making sure you know that,” she said, vaguely insulted.
“I think the ABC will probably the best,” I said, sticking up for him.
“A lot of the gay rags are asking for interviews,” Tracey continued. “You should at least do one of them. They’ll probably want to talk to Simon as well.”
“Huh?” I asked stupidly.
“You are part of this,” Declan reminded me. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I just thought I was going to be asked for my opinion,” I said weakly.
“Don’t be naïve,” Wallace said, looking up as his secretary entered with a tray of mugs. “The public’s hungry for both of you. They’ll feel cheated if you don’t figure into some of it.”
I took a long sip of my coffee and placed the mug back upon the table. “Can I ask something?” I waited to hear Declan groan, but he only tensed slightly this time.
“Go ahead,” Frasier nodded.
“You seem to be very accepting of all this. Call me cynical, but I thought you might be a little reserved instead of wanting to arrange photo ops and interviews to get the message out further.”
Ed nodded. “I understand why you would think that. But we’re a business as well. And our numbers are down, membership wise. Lower numbers of members means less money coming into the club and lower-tiered sponsorship deals. And you know what brings more sponsorship and more members?”
“Publicity,” I replied. “Preferably positive.”
“That’s right,” Wallace said.
“Do you know we’ve gotten more publicity in the past week than in the whole second half of last year?” Scott asked. “And it’s all due to you two. Now everybody might not be down with the whole gay thing, but it makes us look good if we deal with it positively. Especially with the media on side.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better,” I murmured.
“You don’t know me real well, Simon,” Scott said. “But I have always had Declan’s best interests at heart, no matter what. And Declan would be the first to tell you that.”
I looked at Declan; he nodded, and I could tell it wasn’t just for show. I guess Scott was right; Declan had been out of commission for a while, the club hadn’t pressured him beyond his capabilities, and although he was a commodity to the club both injured and at his best, I couldn’t help but believe them.
“This could be a boon to the club, especially image-wise. So much media attention is put on the behind-the-scenes boozing or drug-taking that some of the players partake in. This is something positive affecting one of the players personally, and it is something everyone can get behind.”
I waited for the tired no pun intended wisecrack to rear its head, but it didn’t. Maybe they meant it.
“In that case, I should tell you that a documentary maker was already filming me for a piece about the festival,” I told them. “Her name is Alice Provotna, and she now says she wants it to focus on Declan and me as well.”
Ed entered her name into his Blackberry. “Can you send me her details? I would like to schedule a meeting with her.”
I started to have visions of the highly artistic and temperamental Alice meeting with the business-minded Ed, and her inevitable accusations he was trying to control her project. “Uh, sure.”
“She might like access to some of our stock footage of Declan. We can discuss that in the meeting. But Simon, I’d also be lying if I wasn’t worried about your involvement in this. Declan has been dealing with the attention for years; he’s used to it. You’re not, so you need to be careful. Especially when we’re trying to maintain a positive image.”
“Is this the gag order?” I asked.
“It’s the be careful order,” Ed said, looking every part the businessman trying to protect his product.
“I THINK that went okay,” Declan said as we headed back to the car. He was jiggling his keys in his hand.
I reached over and stole them away from him. “I’m driving.”
“Hey!” he protested. “Do you know how to drive a SUV?”
“Can’t be that hard,” I scoffed.
“So you don’t think it went well,” Declan sighed.
“I feel like I’m on probation,” I replied, activating the central locking.
Declan jumped into the passenger side as I opened my door. “You’re not on probation. They just had a point. I’m used to both the press and the public needling me.”
I slid in beside him. “You’re forgetting I work in the media.”
“Not personally, but as a representative of a business.”
He had a point. “For you, I’ll try to be careful.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
I turned the car over, threw it into gear, and we peeled out of the car park with Declan hanging on for dear life.