Tigers and Devils

by Sean Kennedy

  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 se
e 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 fo
revermore. 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.”