Chapter 28
I AWOKE with a headache and sleep trying to chase me back down, but Declan must have been waiting for me to open my eyes.
“Morning.”
I mumbled a reply. I may have been half asleep, but not enough to stop everything about last night come flooding back with stunning clarity.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Can it wait for after coffee?” I groaned. I had a feeling only coffee or hard drugs could sustain me through whatever was coming.
“Nope. Otherwise I might lose the guts to tell you.”
Okay. This definitely didn’t sound good. I sat up, but Declan remained propped up on his side with his elbow. With his free hand he rubbed his thumb over my kneecap.
“Shoot,” I told him unhappily.
Declan gave a small sigh and then bit the bullet. “My ex approached me last night.”
I decided to put him out of his misery. “I know, I saw you with him.”
His hand dropped away, and he shook his head. “I knew you were acting weird about something.”
“Is that the only reason why you’re telling me?”
“No!” he said with such vehemence I knew I couldn’t doubt him.
“So why are you only telling me now?”
“It threw me, that’s all. Plus, you didn’t seem very talkative last night.”
I had to give him that.
“I just… had to mull it over, that’s all.”
“What did he say? It looked pretty intense.”
“It was,” Declan admitted. He pulled himself up to sit next to me properly and rearranged the doona over us as it was cold. “He told me he wanted to say how much he admired me for coming out, and he wished he could have done it back when we were together.”
That was what I dreaded hearing. But I couldn’t say anything. My throat had seized up.
“Anyway, he’s thinking about doing it now,” Declan continued. “He’s been miserable the past couple of years, and I guess he wanted to kind of apologise for everything. You know, without really saying sorry.”
There was an edge of bitterness in his last sentence, and I wondered if you were ever really over someone if they still could cause you to have so strong an emotion.
“He wants to get back with you,” I said woodenly.
“Maybe.” Declan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if he does.”
“Why?”
“Christ, Simon, don’t be so dense.”
“Just look at it logically, Dec. He broke your heart because he couldn’t live the way you wanted to or at least try to compromise. Now he’s seen the error of his ways and he’s considering coming out—”
“Yeah, considering.”
“—you said that when the board offered you that deal where you cover everything up and blame it on me, you thought about it. So don’t tell me you didn’t think about the possibility of getting back with him—”
“Are you just looking for a fight?”
“No, I just want to know the truth.”
The words rang out in the space between us, and Declan reached for my hand.
“Of course it crossed my mind. And you should be glad I tell you the truth. Because even though it occurred to me, I also knew I wouldn’t act upon it.”
“But how do you know? He said he’s only considering it, if he actually did it—”
“Because I’m with you, Simon! Because I love you! Not him. You wanted me in spite of who I was, and what you had to do in order to be with me. How many times do I have to fucking say it?”
Any therapist would have told you the obvious, that I couldn’t accept it at times because I didn’t understand why anybody would prefer me over the seemingly perfect football player who Dec would have much more in common with if the guy could get over his issues.
“I love you too,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound desperate. “And that’s why it did my head in last night. I could just see the history between you… the way he looked so comfortable with you. Do you think I want to be paranoid about it?”
Declan shook his head. “But sometimes, I just think you push me away deliberately because you think I’m going to do it one day by my own choice. And it could just happen if you keep doing it.”
I stared at the lumps my knees made under the doona.
Declan waited for me to say something, but I couldn’t talk. Mostly because I thought I would break down there and then.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said finally.
When I heard the water start, I threw on a T-shirt to add some decency to my boxers and headed out into the kitchen to feed Maggie. Once she was munching away happily, I watched her for a while and wished I was a cat so that my biggest problem in life was whether my human was going to open a tin for me as promptly as I wished. I gave her one final scratch behind the ear, and she jerked away as if she thought I was going to steal her food. I smiled and walked out to get the paper from the front lawn.
As the paper unrolled from its plastic wrap, the photo on the front page caught my attention straightaway. It was Francis Bevan, holding his medal up for the camera. But next to it, in a separate box was a photo of Declan and I. I had the stunned-rabbit look, and Declan looked perfectly at ease; the headline above us read DID HE COST TYLER THE MEDAL? Of course, the article was by my old friend Peter van Niuewen, the man who had broken the story of the kiss in the hospital grounds.
That was the last fucking thing that I needed. I quickly skimmed the article; van Niuewen had to have been hanging out at our table last night and dictating everything Geoff Hendricks had said. I was a liability, a controversy, a distraction resulting in Declan losing his cool on the field and rendering himself ineligible for vital points that would have won him the Brownlow.
I turned to the Letters to the Editor page; fans had already e-mailed in their opinions on the subject. Not surprisingly, van Niuewen’s opinion seemed to be the universally accepted one. I was the Devils’ Yoko Ono.
I slammed the paper into the bin, thinking it was best not to let Declan know until I had had enough time to get over it and be able to act like I was unaffected by it all.
The shower had stopped running when I stepped back inside. Declan was towelling himself off in the bedroom.
“Where were you?” he asked.
“Feeding Maggie.”
“I thought I heard the front door.”
“I was putting the can in the bin.”
“Oh.”
I crossed over to him and kissed him. He was surprised, but kissed me back. I rested my forehead against his, and we stood holding each other.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Because I wanted to.”
“Good enough reason for me.”
I wanted to hold onto this moment forever, but they can never last that long.
LUCKILY the thought of the newspaper didn’t even cross Dec’s mind, as he was meeting his brothers for lunch and had to rush in order to get there on time. I was invited, but I thought brotherly bonding should win out, and I had to go shopping for Nyssa’s birthday present. Presciently, I had arranged a mental health day for the Tuesday after the Brownlow, so I had a pleasant feeling of wagging as I made my way down Brunswick Street. Fran and Roger were meeting me at The Hideaway for coffee after work, and I could almost convince myself that I wasn’t Yoko for a few hours… at least until Dec read the papers or saw the news. More than likely his brothers were already telling him right this minute.
I stared in the window of a store where I knew Nyssa liked to shop. There was a pair of gaudy earrings in the shape of miniature bird cages with a tiny parrot hanging on a branch inside them. They were just on the right side of ironic kitsch; therefore, perfect for her. Five minutes later I was walking out of the store, sticking them in my bag, and I accidentally ran into a guy trying to enter.
“Sorry,” I said automatically, and I made to swerve around him.
I was blocked by a hand on my chest, and I peered at the guy to see what the problem was.
“Hey, I know you,” he said.
I stared at him, but he didn’t seem familiar. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he grinned nastily. “You’re that poof in the papers.”
Great. “Yep, that’s me,” I said, and I tried to move away.
Once again, the hand on my chest.
I tried to control my voice, but I said with a tone full of venom, “I would really move your hand if I were you.”
He scoffed. “What are you going to do about it?”
I whacked his hand away. “Fuck off.” I began walking off, but he was dogging me.
A couple of people on the street began to take notice of us. All I could think of was getting back to my car, which was only a block or so away. I had a feeling if I tried to seek refuge in a shop he would only follow me, and things would get worse in a confined area.
“Hey, tough guy,” he said, “where are you running to?”
I could feel my face burning. Most people who were watching us had sympathetic looks on their faces; I think maybe I was more recognisable than I ever thought. Of course it didn’t help I was on the front page of the paper today.
“I’m talking to you!”
Just don’t fall into replying to him. You’ll make it worse. Just get to your car and keep your trap shut.
“They should run your fucking faggot boyfriend out of the league! There’s no place for people like him in it!”
Now, I was in no way the tough guy when I turned on him. It was a fluke, really, I just caught him by surprise when I pulled my fist back and landed it on his cheek. He stumbled and fell backwards onto his arse, while my fist pulsed with pain. Later, Roger would inform me only amateurs go for the face when in a fight. That was me, of course.
But my opponent returned the shock of surprise. He looked up at me and licked the small trickle of blood coming from the edge of his lip. With a grin, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. “That’s assault, I’m calling the fucking police!”
By now a small crowd had formed around us. I felt a small surge of panic and pulled my wallet out of my bag. I had never thought I would have use for it, but I knew it was probably my best bet.
I called the number on Ed Wallace’s business card. It was time to bring in the big guns, and there was none bigger than the CEO of the Devils.
“WHAT do you mean, it’s all sorted?” Declan asked.
“I told you, Dec, we took care of it,” Ed replied smoothly.
I sat silently across from Dec, staring at the surface of the table. We were in one of the boardrooms at Etihad. Ed had sent a lawyer down to the station for me, and talks had taken place between her and my “victim”, whose name turned out to be Jason Terne.
“Simon?” Dec asked.
I continued to stare at the table.
My lawyer—fuck, I had a lawyer now—spoke up for me. “Declan, I’m Nancy Hersh. I met Simon at the station and managed to speak with Mr. Terne—”
“Who?” Declan asked.
“My victim,” I told him. It was the first thing I had said to him since he came into the boardroom looking tense and worried.
“Don’t use that word, Mr. Murray,” Nancy instructed me.
I could feel Declan’s gaze burning through my skin. I looked up and our eyes met. He had a thousand questions to ask, I could tell, but he wanted to ask them when we were alone.
Nancy turned to him. “There are six witnesses willing to come forward for Mr. Murray and state that he was harassed by Mr. Terne, and when the alleged punch was thrown—”
“Punch? There was a punch?” Dec asked.
I lifted my hand. The skin on a couple of knuckles had split, and there was a butterfly bandage covering them. There had been some worry that I might have fractured one of them, but one of the on-call doctors at the Etihad gym had looked at it and declared me fine.
“You punched him?” Declan demanded.
“Allegedly,” Nancy said quickly.
“No allegedly,” I said softly. “I did it.”
“You can only say that in this room,” Nancy reminded me.
Ed watched this with some amusement. “As soon as the guy heard the other witnesses would testify against him, he dropped any threat of making charges. And just to make sure it would stay that way… well—”
“You bribed him?” Dec asked.
“Not a bribe,” Nancy jumped in. She always liked things to be worded her way so there was no chance for recriminations later on. “We paid him for the exclusive rights to his story. That way he can’t tell it to anyone else.”
I started staring back down at the table again.
Declan sighed. “Unbelievable.”
“You can’t afford the controversy, Declan,” Ed told him. “There’s been enough already. Have you seen the papers today?”
Still not looking up, I awaited Declan’s response while forgetting to breathe.
“Yes.”
“Then you understand.”
“I guess.”
I guess? No they’re wrong? No denial of any kind? I looked up, but it was Declan who was now staring down the other end of the table at anything but me.
“The contracts have been signed,” Nancy said, starting to pack her briefcase up. “So there’ll probably be nothing more said of it. Thanks for calling me in, Ed.”
“No, thank you for clearing this up.” Ed rose to shake her hand. “I’ll walk you out.”
He nodded at Declan, but ignored me.
That was because he had taken me aside before Declan had arrived and asked me if I thought things had changed. When I was perplexed by his question, he reminded me I had assured him the first time we met I had Declan’s best intentions at heart.
He then insinuated that I was becoming a liability, especially with my “reckless behaviour.” Although I knew he had only arranged this to stop further bad press for Declan, he had still been the only way I could get out of the situation relatively unscathed. But now he had something over me. And I had no doubt he would probably use it against me at some point, maybe in an effort to try to make Declan see that what everybody else said about me was true.
And it seemed that Declan didn’t need much convincing at the moment. “What the fuck were you thinking, Simon?”
It was the question I was dreading, but I really hadn’t expected him to say it with such vehemence. I thought he would have been concerned about me first and then let me have it.
“I wasn’t thinking,” I murmured.
“That’s for fucking sure.”
“Dec—”
“All those times you had a go at me for fighting on the field—”
“And did you ever listen to me?” I reminded him.
“But at least I wasn’t acting all holier-than-thou and then turning around and doing the same thing!”
I felt like I was going to throw up. Or hit him. “‘Holier than thou’?”
“When you go on one of your superior rants—”
“‘Superior’?” It seemed like all I could do was mimic him at the moment.
“Yes, superior! Because that’s the way you act sometimes, like you’re above everybody else. That you’re right about everything, and everyone should act the way you think. Except you never do it yourself. You just do what you like—”
“Maybe I do, sometimes! But I make mistakes. And I did that today.”
“Why couldn’t you have just ignored him?” Declan was going red in the face; I had never seen him look so angry before. At least, not at me.
“The same reason why you couldn’t ignore them when they sledged me on the field!” I yelled. “Because I can cope with getting shit about me from strangers on the street, but I hate hearing it said about you!”
Instead of telling me he understood, because I knew it was the same from his point of view, he was still too angry. “You just don’t think things through!”
I was starting to feed off his mood, and I was on the defensive. “I don’t think things through? Everything I think revolves around you and how it affects you. And it doesn’t matter what I do, it’s all my fault. I have enough people telling me that, and then when they’re quiet I have the media saying it. Even your fucking boss today said I was a liability to you.”
The last sentence didn’t seem to register with him. “Then why did you hit that guy, if you knew all of that? You must have known it would only make things worse!”
I slumped back into my chair. “Because I’m tired. I’m sick of it. I want a break.”
Those words were out of my mouth before I even realised it. In my head I was having this beautiful, romantic fantasy of Dec and I loading the car and running away for a month, holing up in some deserted cabin somewhere… maybe along the Great Ocean Road. Where we could just be us without everybody else sticking their oar in.
That’s all I wanted for a while. I needed it. And I knew he did as well.
But Declan misinterpreted it. “That’s what you want?” he asked coldly.
I nodded.
“Then you’ve got it.”
I couldn’t comprehend the link between what he was saying, and the expression on his face. They were completely different. “What?”
“Enjoy your break,” Dec said. Standing before me, he looked like a totally different person. A cold, robotic man in shut-down mode.
I then realised what I had said, and how it could be misinterpreted. “Dec, that’s not what I meant—”
He shook his head. “It is. Bye, Simon.”
I called out his name, but he closed the door behind him. I sat there for a moment, my mind racing over everything that had just been said between us. Was this really how quickly things could end, over such a stupid and simple sentence? I got to my feet and ran to the door, about to yank it open, when the knob turned under my hand.
Thank fuck, Dec—
It was Ed. “Everything okay, Simon?”
“Thanks for today,” I said hurriedly as I pushed past him.
“Remember our little talk,” he called after me.
I didn’t give a fuck about our little talk. I ran down the maze of hallways, trying to find my way to the car park. In my frenzied state I got myself lost, but even with such a diversion I should have been able to catch up with Declan easily. Unless he was running from me.
By the time I pushed open the big doors to the car park, the space reserved for the players was empty. I hurriedly pulled out my mobile and dialled his number. The other end of the line rang for ages and then diverted to his message-bank.
I think I called it about six times, and on the seventh it diverted straightaway. He had switched his phone off.
Slowly, I made my way back to my own car, which Nancy had driven me from the police station to collect on the way to Etihad.
I hoped my mobile would ring and show Dec’s number.
But it didn’t.