Tigerland (23 page)

Fresh and dressed, I followed the smell of bacon and scrambled eggs to the kitchen.

“I love it when you’re domesticated.” I beamed at the love of my life.

He almost dropped the pan when he saw me. “That smile… is creepy. Stop it.”

“I thought you liked it when I’m happy.”

Dec started doling the food onto plates. “I’m happy when you’re
your
version of happy. Which is little more than a satisfied smirk most of the time. This”—he gestured wildly in my general direction with a spatula—“is Disney princess happy. There are birds floating around your head, and some little lambs and deer frolicking around your feet.”

He slid my plate towards me, and I clasped my hands mockingly to fit in with the picture he was describing of me. “I do declare, you’ve even fried the bread! What have I done to deserve this?”

“Oh,” he teased, “made me the happiest man alive?”

My tone became suspicious. “Seriously, what have I done to deserve this? You usually say this is a heart attack on a plate, and you want to keep me around.”

“Lighten up,” he said, kissing me on the forehead and perching on the stool next to me. “This is a hooky breakfast. You’re entitled to one every now and again.”

I began squirting the barbecue sauce he had thoughtfully supplied all over my plate until it seemed the food was drowning in a dark sea and crying out for my rescue. Dec made a face and only added pepper to his eggs.

“So good,” I said, my mouth full.

“Stop being gross,” Dec said. “I know you think it’s cute, but it’s not.”

I swallowed. “Happy?” I said, clearly.

“Yes, dear.”

We sat talking about the most mundane and inconsequential matters, desperately avoiding what we were really dwelling upon—if the media was going to be reporting on Dec’s walk-off from last night’s program. We knew in all likelihood they would, but at the moment it was nice ignoring the laptop, the television, and the mobiles and pretending nothing was happening in the outside world which concerned us directly. We thought of going to see a movie but remembered that meant actually going out and interacting with the public, which was something we wanted to avoid altogether, so that plan was quickly scrapped. As horrible as it sounds, we didn’t want to see if any of our friends wanted to be coerced into playing hooky with us, as we only wanted to spend time with each other; Declan told me to come up with some ideas while he took a shower.

It was when I was in the kitchen stacking the dishwasher that my resolve broke. I was standing there with a plate in my hand, about to load it, when I just
wanted
, no,
needed
, to see what was being said about last night. The telly would be too loud and give me away, so, keeping a listen out for the sound of running water, I snuck over to my laptop and fired it up.

All the news sites were the same. Even though Dec had remained calm and seemingly unperturbed on camera, all of the articles hinted at a “hissy-fit” (nice to rub in the old gay stereotype there, because gay men don’t get angry, apparently, they have
hissy fits
) behind the scenes and Declan refusing to go back on camera. This of course all worked to make him look bad, and Heyward as being the paragon of virtue who didn’t mind talking about his personal life and giving the media exactly what they wanted. There always has to be a hero and a villain. Four years ago I was the villain—now it was Dec. It must have been an odd position for him to find himself in, especially for someone who was once known as a God of Football.

Under the tab of “related articles” there was a link that said
HEYWARD ANNOUNCES BOOK DEAL.

What. The. Fuck.

The page seemed to be taking ages to load. I knew Heyward had mentioned the possibility of writing a book when he had coffee with Dec, but it had sounded back then like he was inviting him to write one with him—possibly about sexuality in sport, although Heyward probably would have made sure that in the end it was all about him. Dec may have quashed his own involvement in it, but it looked like Heyward was rocketing forward.

The page loaded, with two pictures at the top, one of Heyward holding a medal he had won on field, and—

No
.

It couldn’t be.

Oh, fuck, it was.

Jasper fucking Brunswick
.

What the
hell
was Jasper Brunswick doing on an article about Heyward? My nemesis—yes, yes, one of many, but he was the
original
—who had made life difficult for me when I first got with Dec and happily contributed to the media circus around our lives was now linked to the man who was set on creating a new one?

At least he looked older.

But then, I probably did as well.

Greg Heyward announced today that he will be releasing a book about his life in the AFL and his personal struggles in coming to terms with his sexuality. “I’ve actually been working on this book behind the scenes for quite some time,” he said. “The deal was struck before I even officially came out.”

So the bastard had lied to Dec! Unless he was thinking of writing
another
book and trying to squeeze every penny out of his newfound fame.

“In many ways writing the book was a cathartic experience, and it helped ramp up my ease at the thought of eventually coming out.”

I doubt he even knew what the word “cathartic” meant. Good thing Word came with an inbuilt dictionary and thesaurus.

Heyward has been working on the book for over six months, with the help of a coauthor in compiling the details of his career along with his own unique view on how it feels to be an outsider within the AFL.

Unique? It seemed they were forgetting one other person.

And will the book touch upon recent revelations about Heyward’s past relationship with fellow footballer and ex Essendon and Tasmanian captain Declan Tyler? Heyward is remaining tight-lipped about that, telling us “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Oh, I could guarantee he would give every detail he could. And although I knew it was coming, here was the kicker at the end:

Titled
Out On The Field
, Heyward’s memoir will be cowritten with social commenter and media personality Jasper Brunswick, who has had personal ties with both Declan Tyler and his partner, Simon Murray. It has been rushed through the presses to be released—

“Motherfucker!” I screamed, causing Maggie to jump up from the couch with her ears flattened in fright. And
Out on the Field
? For fuck’s sake, if they really wanted to sound like the title of a bad midday movie, they could have gone with something like
The Locker Room Was My Closet: The Greg Heyward Story
.

It was then I realised that I could no longer hear the shower running.

Declan appeared in the doorway of our bedroom. “Okay. I guess you read it, then.”

“Read what?” I asked instantly to cover up my tracks, before the two-second delay came in and I knew he had broken our morning’s pledge as well. “You went on the net!”

Dec sat at the table next to me. “Bit hard to act shocked when I just caught you doing the same thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that my sworn enemy was collaborating with your ex on his upcoming tawdry autobiography?”

With his hands in his pockets, Declan moved to sit opposite me. “I didn’t have the heart to tell you.” He paused for a moment. “Or the balls, actually. We were planning our day of hooky, and it seemed nice to forget about it all. But while you were in the shower I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and before I knew it I was reading Greg’s press release.”

Ugh,
Greg
sounded so intimate coming out of his mouth.

“You should have told me.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to pretend for just one day I didn’t read it?”

No, I couldn’t blame him. I wished I could forget it again as well. “Jasper fucking Brunswick.”

“I know.”

“He’s like one of those serial killers in a dumbarse horror flick. Every time you think you’ve gotten rid of him, he comes back for yet another fucking sequel.”

“Uh-huh.” Dec was used to my stupid analogies.

“I wish my life was a horror movie. Then I could stick a knife in him.”

Declan winced. “Okay, you’re going a bit too far now. I don’t want to have to testify against you in a murder trial.”

“You would turn me in?” I was aghast.

“Well, you just murdered Jasper Brunswick!”

“You’re my partner!” I told him. “You’re meant to support me. If I murder someone, you have to be there to help me hide the body!”

Declan was trying valiantly not to smile, but failed. “Okay, I promise. If you kill Jasper, I will help you bury the body and give you an alibi.”

“Just so long as we’re clear about it.”

“But, Simon—”

“Yeah?”

“Just promise me you won’t kill Jasper Brunswick.”

“I promise.” I said. And figured out a loophole: if I killed
both
Jasper and Heyward, I wouldn’t be lying because I only promised not to kill Jasper by himself.

Maybe I should have been a lawyer.

“I don’t like the look on your face,” Dec said. “What are you thinking?”

Strangely enough, thoughts of vengeful murder had left me. Instead I saw, once again, the curve of the Great Ocean Road beckoning to me, whispering that I had to escape. I saw Dec and I watching the waves roll in against the cliffs in a foamy spray, their wild beauty giving us some momentary semblance of peace.

“Remember that time I said I needed a break, and you ran off and disappeared and didn’t speak to me for almost a month?” I asked.

“Frig, you’re cheery this morning,” Dec said drily. “Yes, I do. And if I ever forget, I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

“Come on, you’re usually so good it’s the only thing I can use against you. Me, on the other hand, well, I have a book the length of
War and Peace
listing all my transgressions.”

“True enough. Just letting you know, though, there’s an expiry date on that particular incident and it’s coming up soon.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later,” I said.

Dec sighed. “Okay, so break, I abandoned you, blah blah blah.”

I gave him the greasiest look I could muster, and he bit his lip in an effort not to laugh.

“All I meant at that time was that I needed a break
away
, not from you,” I said. “And I think we need that now. Let’s just hit the road, you and me, like Harold and Maude—”

“She dies at the end!”

“Fine,” I said, trying to think of another example. “Like Thelma and… oh, bugger it. Anyway, we’ll hit the road, away from everyone and everything and just spend time together.”

Declan’s eyes were lighting up. “Babe, this may be one of your better ideas.”

“See!”

“But if we’re going to do this, we do it properly. No laptops, no mobiles. We won’t even buy the paper. And we’ll mean it this time. Not like this morning. We’re totally shutting the world out.”

“It sounds fucking fantastic.” I gave him a big smack on the lips, and he returned it with full force.

“Okay. Pack your bags, Maude.”

“So I’m the one who dies?” I protested.

“Oh, no.” Dec laughed. “If we have to, we go out together.”

“Good. But, uh, I would prefer it if we come back alive and well.”

“We’ll try our best.”

I
WOKE
with a start, forgetting where I was for a moment until I looked over and saw Dec behind the wheel, singing softly along with the stereo and tapping his fingers to the beat. I yawned and sat up properly, having sprawled a little bit beneath my seatbelt, which was now digging into my neck.

“Sorry. How long was I out for?”

“You were snoring for the past fifty kilometres,” Dec told me.

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.”

“Well, so do you.”

“You told me I snored only when I’m drunk.”

“I was lying.”

Dec shrugged and began to sing again. I smiled and closed my eyes, listening to him and feeling relieved he was lighthearted enough to do so.

The next thing I knew, we were another twenty kilometres down the road. Sheepishly, I resolved to stay awake. For one thing, I was missing a hell of a view, with the wide spread of the ocean on my left and my beautiful Dec on the right.

Who wasn’t so pretty when he was complaining. “I thought the point of this trip was to spend time together?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I will stay awake from here on out. You know what I’m like on long journeys when I’m not driving.”

“Maybe we should stop and get something to eat.”

I wished we could just keep driving forever.

We had left only an hour after we had decided to commit to this crazy plan. I had run downstairs and banged on Abe’s door, hoping he was home. I was surprised, although not really at the same time, when it was Lisa who answered me, yawning with her mouth behind her free hand. She immediately wanted to know how we were going, as it turned out she had heard about Heyward’s book on the morning TV shows, but I brushed it off. I told her our plans, and made her promise to look after Maggie while we were gone. She looked a bit concerned at the fact that we seemed to be running away from our problems, but gave me a kiss and told me to drive safe. On the way back up to the top floor, I realised that she had basically admitted to planning to stay at Abe’s for the next few days. Curiouser and curiouser.