Tigers and Devils

by Sean Kennedy

  I nodded and made my way over to the office while Lisa and Abe went back towards the exit.

  Dec saw me before I got there, and if it was possible for him to look even unhappier, he did. My old friend Ed had his back to me. I felt my stomach drop. The last time I’d met him and Coach Scott hadn’t exactly been the social soirée of the season, back when Dec was in the hospital recovering from his operation and his two bosses had looked upon me as some sort of interloper bothering their cash cow.

  I knocked on the door, and the two other men turned to look at me.

  “Hey,” I said. Wow, there was an opening.

  “Simon,” Scott said politely.

  Ed, however, glared at me. “Can we help you?”

  “I was just wondering if I could steal Dec for a moment.”

  “We’re kind of busy,” Dec told me, his tone telling me to go away.

  Which of course, I wouldn’t do. “Look, Abe told me what you guys were talking about.”

  “This is game business, Simon,” Ed told me.

  I stood my ground. “It’s my bloody face plastered over those posters, so I’d say it’s my business too.”

  “You can’t honestly expect us to search over sixty thousand people who attend the games!” Ed spat.

  “Hey!” Dec warned. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

  I glared at Dec, trying to tell him to back down through the powers of the mind. He didn’t want to, and he folded his arms defensively over his chest.

  “Well?” Ed demanded. “Look, we’re going to do a public statement saying that the language is unacceptable but to search everyone is impossible!”

  I could see Dec straining, waiting for my response.

  “I know,” I said, finally. “It’s just not feasible.”

  Ed looked pleased, Scott anxiously awaited Dec’s next explosion, and Dec shook his head at me.

  “What do you suggest then?” Ed was suddenly very interested in my opinion now he thought I was on his side.

  “There’s nothing to do.” I shrugged. “And I wouldn’t want anyone doing that on my behalf either.”

  “But they shouldn’t be targeting you,” Declan said with gritted teeth. “You’re not a player. They—”

  Old argument, and one that was never going to be solved with continual rehashing.

  “Dec,” Scott said calmly. “You know sledging happens on the field. Sometimes it even involves family. Just because you choose not to do it, doesn’t mean other people won’t.”

  “But this isn’t other players doing this,” Dec argued. “This is the crowd. And they’ve never gone after anyone who isn’t actually a player before. That’s why this is different.”

  “Dec—”

  “You shouldn’t be in here, Simon,” Dec said, glaring at me.

  I had never seen him look at me that way before, with pure anger. Sure, we’d had tiffs and major disagreements, but he’d always tried to battle me with humour. He was beyond that approach at this moment.

  “And you’re not turning me into the poster boy for censorship,” I said, my tone made of steel. “Think about how fucking ironic that would be. I may not be on that field like you are, but I can take shit when it’s flung my way. And I can deal with it as well.”

  Dec and I continued to stare at each other, neither of us wanting to back down.

  “Well,” Ed interrupted, sounding much happier than he had when I first came in. “That’s that, then.”

  “No, it’s not,” Dec said firmly.

  “You’re alone on this one, Declan,” Ed told him with more than a hint of satisfaction. “You’re asking the impossible.”

  “I’ll wait outside,” I told Declan.

  He didn’t answer me. Ed went to shake my hand, but I pointedly ignored it. I hated having to take sides against Dec, but he was upset and being more than irrational. I had hoped to calm him down, but it seemed I had made things worse.

  Abe and Lisa were waiting outside the change room, and they jumped up as soon as they saw me emerge from it as if it were from the entrance to hell.

  “What happened?” Lisa asked.

  “It’s not good,” I said truthfully. “He’s pissed, and now he thinks I’m against him too.”

  “I’d feel the same if I was him,” Abe said, “and it was Lisa they were doing that shit to.”

  “Thanks, Abe. That’s helpful.”

  Abe looked upset by my mild sniping.

  “Yeah, and I’d be doing what Simon is doing,” Lisa frowned, deciding that because everybody else was sharing their opinions she may as well jump in as well. “I wouldn’t give those arseholes the satisfaction of thinking they got to me.”

  “You don’t understand—” Abe started.

  “Stop!” I interrupted him. “You two are not going to argue about this as well!”

  “Okay,” they said together, chastened.

  “Look, Dec’s really in a foul mood. You don’t have to wait around if you don’t want to.”

  “Are you sure?” Abe asked quickly. I didn’t blame him; he’d had to handle Dec on the field for close to two hours.

  “I don’t need protection,” I scoffed.

  I was hugged good-bye by both of them, although they looked reluctant to leave.

  Once they had disappeared behind the huge security doors, I sat down on one of the couches and dug my book out of my bag.

  Two chapters had been devoured, although my mind really didn’t process anything I read, before Declan silently stood beside me.

  I shut my book and looked up at his stony visage. “How did it go?”

  “You know how it went,” Dec said in a dangerous monotone.

  “You’re mad at me.” It was a statement, because I already knew the answer.

  “I don’t want to get into it here.”

  “Okay,” I said, faux-cheerily. “Your place or mine?”

  Dec’s grip tightened on his bag. “Actually, I want to be left alone tonight.”

  I stuffed my book into my backpack. “Oh, come on.”

  “Don’t start,” Dec warned.

  “It’s stupid for us to fight about this,” I tried to placate him. “You know they couldn’t have done it. And when you calm down—”

  “I’m calm!” he snapped.

  “Yeah, you sound it.”

  “I told you not to start.”

  “And you’re sounding like an arsehole,” I fumed.

  The anger flared in his eyes again. “Simon, goddammit—”

  “Seriously, you can’t go off mad. Let’s talk about it.”

  “I’m not going to talk about it here. Do you remember, Simon, not that long ago, when you said you would make them pay if you were in my position, and they had sledged me?”

  I did. But this wasn’t vengeful fantasy. “Of course I would feel that way. But there are realistic ways to deal with it, and then there’s trying to make your club pay for security to search people so they won’t be mean to your boyfriend.”

  “Great way to reduce it, Simon. I’m going.”

  And he began to walk off.

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  Dec turned back and said hoarsely, “Don’t ever do that to me again. Pull me aside if you have to, but don’t make me look like a fucking idiot in front of my bosses.”

  “I tried to, if you recall, Dec, but you were doing that on your own,” I said, and I meant it to burn.

  He didn’t say a word. He just walked off in the direction of the car park.

  So I was left there. And I didn’t have my car. I sat there stupidly for ten minutes, wondering if he would calm down and then come back to get me.

  He didn’t. In the end I stuck my book back in my bag and left Etihad, heading over the footbridge through the Southern Cross Station and down to Collins Street to catch my tram.

  This wasn’t the way I had imagined the rest of the day would go. By now Dec would already be at home, stomping around his apartment. I wondered how long it would take him to calm down. I w
asn’t looking forward to the inevitable conversation we would have to have in which we hashed over who said what and what do we do now.

  I just wished the damn fight hadn’t happened and he had listened to me from the start. Or had just let me go back home with him and sort it out straightaway. Time would just make it worse.

  I tried to lose myself in my book again but couldn’t concentrate and ended up resting my head against the cool glass of the window as the tram rattled its way past Parliament Station.

  The girl opposite was staring at me, and I was starting to feel unnerved. Finally she leaned in and whispered, “Hey, are you that guy going out with Declan Tyler?”

  I gave her a tired smile. “If I was, do you think I’d be catching this tram?”

  She looked disappointed. “I guess not.”

  And she left me alone after that.

  Chapter 27

  “SO, HAS he called you yet?” Fran asked.

  “You know I would have told you by now if he had,” I told her, nursing my beer.

  She frowned and then her look turned sympathetic. “Simon, have you tried calling him, or are you being stubborn?”

  I wanted to pretend that I was being my usual self, all aloof and confident despite the fact everybody close to me saw right through it anyway, but I was too tired. “I’ve tried. Too many times to even count, actually.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the background noise of The Napier take over in lieu of conversation. Finally, I asked her what I had been wanting to ever since I sat down. “Have you spoken to him?”

  She looked at me sadly and shook her head.

  “Oh,” I said, defeated. “He must still be… calming down… then.” But I fired up again. “He’s establishing an MO, you know? A sign of trouble, and he disappears on me. I’m fucking sick of it. I want him to stick around, for once.”

  “He’s probably more embarrassed by the fact that he lost his cool for once,” Fran said, trying to calm me. “He always keeps things pretty close to his chest. To be so open about it, and lose face… well, he is a man.”

  “On behalf of my sex, I say ‘Hey!’”

  “Come off it,” Fran protested. “Stupid, bloody, men.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed before I could stop myself.

  We both laughed, and it was the first time I had done so in days. But the natural serotonin disappeared immediately, and I tried not to let my funk show.

  I DRUNKENLY wove my way from the tram stop back to my house and saw that Dec’s car was sitting in my driveway and the windows of my house were lit. Instead of being relieved, I was mad. Stupid, bloody alcohol, being in my system. I felt this wasn’t a situation that should be fuelled by malt and hops.

  I fumbled with my keys in the door and walked in to find him sitting calmly on my couch with Maggie in his lap.

  “Maggie, you traitor,” I slurred.

  “I let myself in,” Declan said unnecessarily.

  “Then you should know the way out,” I said grandly, kicking off my shoes.

  “Simon….”

  I stumbled into my bedroom, feeling sick to my stomach although it wasn’t from the alcohol. I lay on my bed, as I could no longer stand. I heard Maggie’s bell sound; Declan must have lifted her off him, because I heard him coming down the hall.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” I called out.

  The mattress dipped sickeningly as he sat next to me.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Amazing,” I said. “How could you tell?”

  He rested his hand upon my side, and I twisted out from under it.

  “Simon, please.”

  I dragged myself up into a sitting position although the room was spinning uncontrollably. Declan was looking at me with concern. Maybe he thought I had turned alcoholic out of despair.

  “‘Please’,” I snorted. “I think I said that in one of the hundreds of messages I left you. Dec, please call me.”

  “Can’t we talk?”

  “I tried talking to you on Saturday. You didn’t want to. Now I don’t want to.”

  He didn’t answer; he just sat there. And I could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. And just that little thing made me collapse internally.

  I gave him a quick hug. “I lied. I do want to talk to you. But I think I’m going to vomit.” I lay back down, glad that the room stopped moving when I did so.

  Declan lay beside me, and his arms pulled me in closer to him. And strangely enough, I began to feel better.

  MERCIFULLY, I didn’t have a hangover when I woke up hours later, but I was cold even though Declan was still holding me. So the recent dreamlike events were real. We had fallen asleep on top of the covers, and Maggie was nestled between our legs.

  “I’m sorry,” Dec murmured, sensing I was awake.

  “Me too.”

  We decided not to press the issue. We both knew how we had stuffed up, and there was no need to rehash it. But I just had to let him know one thing.

  “I’m a big boy, Dec.”

  “You have tickets on yourself,” Dec smiled, not being able to resist.

  “I mean it. I can deal. It won’t stop you from worrying about me. It won’t make me stop worrying about you. But we’ll deal.”

  His lips found the crook of my neck. I turned so we were face to face, eager to feel his mouth against mine again. We kissed deeply, slowly, savouring each other. Making up for what had been missed over the past few days. Maggie, disturbed by the shifting bodies, took off for safer ground.

  My doorbell rang.

  “Who the hell is that this early on a Sunday morning?” I groaned.

  “It’s Monday,” Dec reminded me.

  “Public holiday,” I corrected him. “It’s a Sunday by another name.”

  I gave him another kiss, glad he was there to receive it, and made my way to the door. I heard Declan following me.

  Fran and Roger stood on the doorstep. Roger looked slightly green; Fran was wearing sunglasses, despite the fact that it was overcast. She held up a couple of greasy brown paper bags, and Roger was holding one as well.

  “Hangover cure,” she announced. “Don’t say we don’t love you.”

  She then lifted her glasses to reveal two bloodshot eyes as she stared past my shoulder. Declan had just appeared behind me.

  “Well,” Fran said, lowering her glasses again. “Good thing we brought extra.”

  Roger tried to give me an intimidating stare as he walked in. It failed, so he tried it on Declan. It failed again.

  I turned to follow Roger into the kitchen; behind me I heard a muffled thud, and Declan protesting. I looked back and saw him rubbing his shoulder.

  “She hit me!” he said, an injured expression on his face.

  Fran gave me a wink as she continued on into the kitchen. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your knee.”

  “It means she loves you,” I told Declan.

  He continued rubbing the inflicted area. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Can we eat?” Roger moaned from the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  “You go first,” Declan whispered. “I don’t think my shoulder can take another hit.”

  Trying to hide my smile, but failing miserably, I led the way.

  AND that was how it was for us. Ups and downs. Sometimes more downs than ups. It was funny, though, because we experienced everything differently. He got flak on the field, but none from the fans. I, however, got it all from the fans. The needling at the games maintained a steady level rather than dying down as I had hoped it would. Dec got to the point where he wanted me to stay away for my own sanity, but I stubbornly took my place in the players’ box at every away game that took place in Melbourne.

  Away from the field I had also become more recognisable in the public eye, and it meant certain members of it now thought they were well within their right to start calling me out whenever and wherever they saw me. I took to wearing my iPod every time I was out and about by myself, bu
t sometimes I could still hear them above the music. If I was with Dec they never tried it. They wanted to be his friend, so by default I was treated to their politeness.

  Fran and Roger got to see it every now and again, though.

  “How can you stand it?” Roger asked.

  “I just have to.”

  “I want to hit them for you,” Fran snarled.

  “If you want to go ahead, I didn’t hear anything, so I can’t be responsible,” I said. I kind of meant it, even though it was unwise.

  The only face-to-face negativity Declan experienced was on a radio interview when one of the DJs asked him if he was a top or a bottom. When Dec had asked him if he was serious, the DJ told him he didn’t have a sense of humour. Declan walked out of the interview early, the managers of the Devils went ballistic at the radio station, and battle lines were drawn. The more bozo-ish of the footy shows on TV admonished him as being a sook, yet Dec knew if he had actually gone on their show they would have been kissing his arse.

  He was almost glad when the Devils didn’t make the finals, as it meant he could have a longer break away from it all. I don’t even want to discuss how the Tigers did.

  Dec and the rest of his team went on their end-of-season holiday early, but would be back in time for the Brownlow ceremony.

  The Brownlow. That was another thing I didn’t want to think about, being in the same room as a large group of people who would sledge me on the field to try and provoke my partner every week. I know sledging wasn’t meant to be taken personally, but I still took it as such.

  “You’ve lost weight,” Fran told me critically, while Declan was away.

  “Good, I can go shopping in the petite section for my Brownlow dress,” I replied sourly.

  Fran gave me a small smile. “I heard what they said on that show. I don’t know why Roger watches that crap.”

  “He says it’s just because he wants to know the in-house goss.”

  “It’s not worth it. Especially when they make fun of your friends.”

  “They did say I would look good in a dress, though. Y’know, because I’m a girl.”

  “There are worse things than being called a girl.”