Authors: Sean Kennedy
“Aren’t you worried about seeing him tomorrow?”
Declan paused, then propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at me. “Should I be?”
“I wouldn’t look forward to seeing an ex.”
“Well, it’s not something I’ve drawn hearts and flowers around in my diary.”
I ran my finger along his shoulder blade, and he tried to bite it. “I guess it’s for the best, anyway.”
“Hopefully we’ll have a better idea of what he’s up to.” He kissed me, his hand dropping down upon my chest, his palm warm against my skin. “Please go to sleep.”
He rolled back over, and I spooned against his back. As my hand slipped over his waist, he held it against his belly.
I was slowly lulled to sleep, although my conversation with Lisa kept coming back to me.
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t worry about that fuckwit trying to cause trouble.
Exactly what I was worried about.
O
KAY
, so I know what I did was stupid, immature, and oh-so-very-wrong, but I had to do it. You would think that sense would have returned once the effects of the wine wore off, but the more I thought about it the more I wanted to do it.
And it was lucky that I had a friend who was just as stupid and immature as I was to help me do it. It was also lucky for both of us that he had a wife—also my friend—who was smart enough to come along with us to make sure we didn’t get into too much trouble.
Declan had seemed a little nervous when he left half an hour before I met Fran and Roger in our building’s car park. I had made the offer of accompanying him, but he denied the possibility before I even had the chance to finish my sentence. It was a wise move on his behalf, especially seeing he had no idea what I would actually be doing in his absence.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Fran said as we headed out from the city towards Fitzroy.
“You didn’t need that much convincing,” I reminded her.
“Neither did Roger!”
We both looked at Roger, who squirmed in his seat.
“I really need to go to the loo,” Roger said.
“Hold it in,” I told him. There were no spaces right near the cafe, so we had to circle the block four times before we lucked out into getting a parking spot right across the road. I turned off the ignition and settled back into my seat for the long haul.
“I
really
need to go to the loo,” Roger repeated more insistently.
“Hold it in,” I repeated, just as insistently.
Roger tugged at the crotch of his jeans, and Fran and I immediately shielded our eyes.
“I can’t!”
“You’re going to blow our cover!”
Fran leaned over from the back, her breath sweet from the cinnamon donut she had just scarfed down. Our supplies weren’t going to last that long, the way she was going. “Our cover? You know we’re not in
Law and Order
, right?”
“We have to treat this as seriously as if we were,” I said. “So, Roger, shut up and hold it.”
“There’s an empty coffee cup back here,” Fran said helpfully. Too helpfully.
I yelled out “He is
not—
” just as Roger moaned “I’m
not—
” and Fran shrugged.
“Go in a coffee cup!” Roger fumed. “I’m not an animal!”
“If you were, you could just go on the floor,” I told him.
“You’re going to get kidney problems,” Fran singsonged. “That’s what my mum always says.”
Roger was now practically dancing in his seat. “Your mum also thinks you get piles from sitting on a cold dunny seat.”
Fran ignored him, staring at the takeaway coffee cup she was holding. “I really want a coffee.”
“Both of you shut up!”
The response to that was Fran’s door flying open, and her stepping out onto the pavement before slamming the door shut again. She strode off down the street, looking a little like Miss Gulch from
The Wizard of Oz
as her hair flew behind her in the wind, heading towards a different cafe than the one Declan would be in.
“She’s going to get us caught,” I grumbled.
Roger shot me an apologetic look before he threw open the door and followed his wife, doing the awkward shuffle of a person with a bursting bladder.
At least they weren’t distracting me now. Like I said, I knew this was stupid. And quite honestly, it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Declan. I wanted to see Heyward for myself, even if it was from across the street and hiding out in my friend’s car. I wanted to analyse his body language—see how he greeted Dec, how he sat across from him, whether he did any “friendly” touches during conversation. And whether Dec would punch him.
I wasn’t advocating violence. I knew even if it so happened that Heyward made a pass at him, Declan wouldn’t punch him. But I still wondered exactly how he would react.
Too bad I couldn’t have bugged him about it before he left the apartment.
It was at that moment I realised how crazy I sounded in my head.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud to myself, as if the concrete reality of my voice would bring me back to earth even faster. “I’m a fucking lunatic.”
I had resolved that as soon as Fran and Roger returned we would get the hell out of there, and I could at least pretend that I had some scrap of dignity intact, but that was when Heyward appeared.
I hadn’t seen him in person since that night at the Brownlows, and only on television or the net since then, but his image was forever burned into my brain. Declan’s infamous ex, the one that had cheated on him and kept him even further in the closet and succeeded at being the only person who ever really made Dec feel shitty about himself… there he was, walking along the street like some character in a cartoon, musical notes flying out of his mouth as he whistled merrily to himself without a care in the world.
I hated him. The deep dark Gollum-fied twisting of my heart testified to that.
He was my nemesis, and he didn’t even know it. He would probably laugh if he did know it, because in his mind I would be no threat to him whatsoever. I was nothing more than a cockroach, something easily crushed beneath his size thirteen feet.
And he was going to meet my partner for a cosy little catch up.
Without taking my eyes off him, I ferretted around in the bag Roger had brought along, feeling for the pair of binoculars he claimed he had. Pulling them out, I looked through them to see that they were useless. I might as well have been looking through the bottom of a tumbler.
Dec was seated by the window. It was lucky for me, or else I would have had to stalk them in the cafe, with eye holes cut into a newspaper. I earned my diploma in Spy Techniques from the Looney Tunes University. Maybe Dec had even chosen that table just to prove to himself that there was nothing to worry about—that both he and Heyward were out in the open and didn’t have any reason or suspicion to hide away from anything. He stood as Heyward approached him, and I squinted as if I could make my eyes zoom in like a telephoto lens. Heyward went in with what looked like a preemptive strike of a hug, but Declan leaned back and offered his hand instead.
Team Simon: 1; Team Heyward: 0.
As far as I could tell, Dec was sitting with his hands crossed in front of him on the table, and he was hunched over them slightly, a sure sign that he was feeling defensive. Another good sign for me.
I threw the binoculars back in the bag. I knew I shouldn’t be here.
The doors to the car opened and Fran and Roger got in noisily, arguing amongst themselves. Fran handed me a coffee, and I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“So, what’s going on?” Fran asked.
“Nothing much,” I said. “Are your bladder issues resolved, Roger?”
“I’m an empty vessel.”
Fran snorted to herself, and even I ignored the way-too-easy opening for a put-down.
“By the way, these binoculars are shit. Where did you get them, inside a Royal showbag?”
His silence confirmed it.
“The James Bond one,” Fran whispered.
“That must have been some lousy Q who developed those binoculars,” I said.
“It was cheaper than renting a costume,” Roger said.
I looked at Fran. She remained stoic.
“I’m not going to say a word.” I said.
“For a party!” Roger quickly protested. “Seriously!”
Strange, I couldn’t ever remember Roger dressing up as Bond for a party. “Were you Pussy Galore?” I asked Fran.
She smirked. “Tits McGee.”
“Is this part of some seven year itch marriage therapy?” I asked.
“We’ve been together ten years, and besides, we’re dealing with your problems,” Roger said quickly, as he knew that Fran would probably be more than happy to spill some secrets, even if I really didn’t want to hear them. But who was I to judge? Sometimes it was fun to let Declan drag out his old guernsey, or even make him wear the black and gold—
“Why are
you
blushing?” Fran asked of me.
“I’m not!” I said, my face feeling warm. “It’s hot in here. I’m going to wind down a window.”
“Why don’t you just turn on the air con?”
I did both, and breathed with relief at the fresh air that hit me, filled with the exhaust of city traffic and methane of city commuters.
And finally noticed that Dec wasn’t at his table any more.
“Now look what you’ve done! You distracted me!”
“Abort the mission! Abort the mission!” Fran giggled.
Before I could ask what was going on, Fran and Roger ducked down in their seats, and I looked up to see Dec crossing the road before us, his mobile to his ear.
That, of course, was when my mobile began to ring. With its very distinctive ringtone.
Oh we’re from Tiger—YELLOW AND BLACK!—yes, we’re from Tigerland!
Even with the noise from the street, Declan heard it. He turned in our direction, and I knew it was too late to do anything but sit there and give him a weak, apologetic, wave.
He snapped his mobile shut, and the Richmond theme song instantly ceased issuing from mine.
“Do you think he saw us?” Roger asked, coming up for air and groaning at the sight of Declan now peering in at his window. “Crap.”
Fran rolled down her window. “Hey, Dec.”
As smooth as ever, Dec said, “Hey, guys.”
“What a coincidence!” Roger said, every syllable sounding absurdly strained and false. “What are you doing here, Declan Tyler?”
“Let it go, hon,” Fran said.
“Do you need a lift?” I asked.
Dec didn’t say anything, but got into the back of the car as Fran slid over to give him room.
“So, Dec,” Roger continued, ignoring his wife and trying to continue the charade, “What have you been doing?”
I started the car and wondered if it would just be better for all of us to drive straight into the Yarra River rather than home.
F
RAN
and Roger left us at our building, deciding in secret between themselves that it was obviously for the best to go home and leave me to whatever fate Dec had planned while sitting in the back seat in complete silence. We walked to the lift and rode it to our floor without a word. The quiet was killing me. Once we were inside the privacy of our apartment, I flung myself to the ground and melodramatically clenched Dec’s legs.
“I throw myself upon the mercy of the court! Be lenient, good sir!”
I heard him sigh. “Get up.”
“No! Don’t throw me in the hole! Anything but the hole!”
He grabbed me by the shoulders and gently hoisted me up. “Very cute.”
I tried to look as contrite as possible. “I really do mean it. I’m at your mercy.”
His hands were upon my cheeks, his lips upon mine, kissing me with a passionate ferocity. When he pulled away and I could draw breath again, I found him staring at me.
“That wasn’t the kiss of death, was it?”
He laughed. “No, I want you sticking around.”
“More fool you.”
“Yeah,” he said, kissing me again. “More fool me.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but why am I so easily forgiven?”
“Because you’re Simon Bloody Murray, and I love you.”
“I think that answer needs a little reasoning.”
He pretended to think hard for a moment. “Because you’re crazy?”
“Huh.”
“And because this kind of thing makes sense coming from you.”
He moved over to the couch, kicking off his shoes as he did so before throwing himself down. He patted the cushions beside him.
“So you’re saying I’m an insane stalker?”
Dec patted the cushions again, and I sat next to him. “You think I wouldn’t be acting like an idiot if you were meeting up with an ex?”
I couldn’t really see it, no. Declan acting like an idiot would probably involve clamming up and having a beer with a friend rather than chasing me across town to spy on me with what turned out to be toy binoculars. Or maybe he would? Jealousy did crazy things to people, as I had just proven, and it’s not like we had any precedent for this before.
Taking my silence into account, Declan continued, “I would, believe me. Besides, it was good to come out and see you straightaway. When I left all I wanted was to be with you, and there you were.”
“Well, I did it all for you, really,” I lied.
Dec rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, babe.”
That was like waving a red flag to a bull. I kicked off my sneakers, and they flew across the lounge to land metres apart from each other. It would drive Declan crazy, who liked things in neat piles. “So, tell me everything. Did he pledge his undying love for you? Tell you to ditch the zero and get with the hero?”
Dec took a while to answer, rubbing his palms over his eyes and sighing heavily.
I leaned back heavily into the arm of the couch. “He did, didn’t he?”
“He said a lot of things. Most of which I found personally offensive.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but times like this it was difficult to get anything out of Dec. “Well?”
“He made what he thought were reasonable
business
offers.”
“Son of a bitch! I’m going to kill him!”
“Don’t start talking like the prime suspect to a future murder. Especially because you’d have to get in line behind me.”