“Call Roger,” Declan said as he kissed me goodbye.
“
You
call him,” I said childishly.
He shook his head and kissed me again. “Speak to you soon.”
The house seemed empty without him in it. I turned on the stereo, loud, to fill the leftover space.
I DIDN’T call Roger back, of course, although he tried three times more. I did answer when Fran’s mobile number displayed on caller ID, and when Roger’s voice came through the earpiece I hung up immediately. A few minutes afterwards I received a text from her saying that she hadn’t put him up to it, and would I please call her at work tomorrow?
I had an early night after checking in with Declan, who had arrived home safely and was preparing to go out to dinner with Abe and Lisa. “Wish you were here,” he said breezily, and I found myself feeling horribly lonely.
So I was determined that I wouldn’t be stupid and shut Fran out again just because Roger was being a dick. She sounded surprised when I called her at exactly a minute past nine.
“I haven’t even gotten a coffee yet,” she said ruefully. “Have you?”
“Yep, and it’s wonderful.”
“Bastard. You must have gotten in early.”
“I did.”
And then the awkward pause. I slowly turned in my chair to watch the crowds still streaming out of Flinders Street Station below me. It was always surprising how many people seemed to be late for work every day. Of course, I was making a gross generalisation—maybe they all didn’t start at nine. But I was sure a fair few of them were late.
“Simon?”
“Sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?”
“Just, I’m not sure if I should bring up Saturday night or whether we should just pretend that nothing happened.”
“I don’t think I can pretend that
nothing
happened.”
160 | SEAN KENNEDY
“Meet me for lunch?”
It was a busy day for me, but I had to agree so she wouldn’t think I was pissed with her. “Sure.”
“Great.”
“Fran?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to try and bring Rog, are you? In some misguided attempt to set things right?”
She took a deep breath. “Hun, I’m not stupid.”
I shouldn’t have doubted her. It was dim-witted of me. “Okay. See you at one.”
“YOU’RE lucky I didn’t turn up with a camera crew,” I said easily as I sat before Fran. She grimaced. “Alice Provotna again?”
“Yeah, I’ve got meetings all day. She thinks they’ll be interesting. Our definitions of that word are
not
one and the same. And she seemed to think this was a business lunch.”
“Thank God you put her off. How did you convince her?”
“I told her you were my mistress,” I teased.
“Hopefully not on camera, just in case any of my family ever get to see it.”
“What, you don’t think we’d make a great couple?”
She raised an eyebrow. “My family would
agree
.”
“Well, knowing your husband—”
“Hey!” she warned.
I put up my hands in surrender. “Sorry. I had to get one cheap shot in.”
Fran shrugged and picked up the menu even though I knew she had already chosen what she wanted before even arriving at the restaurant. “I’ll give you
one
.”
“All the rest will be earned, though.”
“Let me just say though, Simon, he
is
really upset.”
“Boo fucking hoo.”
She glared over the top of the menu. “I said only
one
cheap shot.”
The waiter took our orders, and I could no longer hide behind my menu-shield. It was time to come out swinging. “So,
he’s
bloody upset? It can’t be all about him. He attacked
us
.”
“I know, but he knows he’s screwed up and now he wants to fix it.”
“And I want to lick my wounds for a little while.”
TIGERS AND DEVILS | 161
“Get Declan to do it, and maybe it’ll speed up the process.”
I glared at her.
“It’s a joke, Simon. We used to be able to do that.”
I took a sip of my water, something to distract me so that I didn’t blurt out a friendship-ending insult. “Well, I’m not feeling very funny at the moment.”
“You have to forgive him sometime.”
“I
know
that, Fran. We’ve been friends for over sixteen years. This isn’t the end of it. But I need some time at the moment. I just can’t pretend everything’s hunky-dory just because he’s feeling guilty and wants that stopped.”
She nodded. “It’s just he’s my husband. So I have to defend him.”
Dammit, her bright eyes were getting to me as she was sincerely trying not to cry. “I know, Fran. But how you’re feeling at the moment, that’s what I feel about Dec. I have to defend him because of what Roger said.”
She reached over and took my hand. “I get it. How is Dec?”
“
He’s
fine. Defending Roger as much as you are, surprisingly enough.”
“That’s why I like him.” Fran gave a delicate sniff, trying to compose herself. “He’s very fair-minded.”
“Maybe too much,” I agreed. “I’m still trying to find his faults.”
“He has them,” Fran laughed softly. “We all do.”
“I guess he did try to torture me yesterday with the run on the beach.”
Fran began to choke. I pushed a glass of water towards her, and she hurriedly took a gulp. “You…
run
… beach?”
“I didn’t last very long.”
“I bet. Still, I wish somebody had had a camera,” she said in awe, as if I’d just told her I’d spotted a Tasmanian tiger loping along with Declan. I grinned at her and suddenly felt the empty space at the table that was Roger. Even when he wasn’t here, he was still between us.
“No matter what happens, or as long as it takes,” I said, “let’s not let it affect us, Fran.”
She frowned. “You’re scaring me with a sentence like that.”
I sighed. “Maybe I’m being melodramatic. But I just don’t want
us
to fight.”
Fran twisted her napkin into a little stress ball and smoothed it back out to begin all over again. “We won’t. But sooner or later, if things aren’t resolved, we probably will.”
On that ominous note, our food arrived. For the rest of our lunch hour together the subject of Roger was studiously avoided.
HOWEVER, it was the first thing Declan brought up when he called me later that night.
162 | SEAN KENNEDY
“No, I haven’t spoke to Roger. But I did speak to Fran.”
“I guess that’s something, at least.”
“She doesn’t want us to fight, but she thinks that the longer things go on like this between Roger and I, the more our friendship will eventually get pulled into it as well.”
“She’s right,” Declan said, refusing to sugarcoat it.
I sighed. “I know. But I’m so pissed off at him at the moment I can’t even look at him. I’m scared I’ll just punch him out.”
Declan laughed. “You?”
“Hey!” I protested. “I can be pretty scrappy when I want to be.”
“I just hope you punch better than you jog.”
“Yeah, well next time you see me, just try me.”
“
Now
you’re getting kinky on me,” he teased.
“Would you like me to be? I’m surprisingly good at tying knots. It was the only way I got any peace when Tim was about eight.”
“I would be too scared you would have a perverse fit and leave me for hours while you go catch a movie.”
“Sounds like
you’re
heading into fantasy territory, not me.”
He ignored that. “Seriously, Simon, call him.”
Back to
that
subject. “In a couple of days. Give me time to cool down.” Desperate to change the subject, I went for the mundane to replace it. “So what did you do today?”
He sounded a bit hesitant. “I, uh, had physio, a team meeting… and then I went to get measured for a suit.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. For the Brownlow.”
“Oh.” Realising I was quickly heading into a territory of jealous in which I didn’t want to stray, I tried to sound light as I asked, “What colour?”
“What colour?”
“Yeah. The suit. What colour?”
“Normal, traditional black.”
“You know, you could try something different.”
He laughed. “Trying something different gets you noticed more. That’s what I try to avoid, remember?”
I remembered the premiere night of the Triple F last year when I had worn an emerald green suit purchased from an op-shop on Sydney Road. There was a reason why Jess was going to the Brownlow instead of me.
Damn. I had let the silence go on for too long.
“Hey, Simon?”
TIGERS AND DEVILS | 163
“Yeah?”
“We didn’t really talk about it, before I left. About the Brownlow.”
“What else is there to know? I thought we covered it all.”
“I just wanted to say… the whole damn thing has been crushing me. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been discussing plans with Jess, and I wanted to tell you, but to tell you the truth, I was scared to.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t the way it should be.”
His voice pained me, it was low and passionate and heartfelt, and I hated it that we could only be so open with each other when we were so far apart physically.
“I know, Dec.”
“I should be making these plans with you, trying to talk you out of whatever crazy thing you would be trying to wear—”
“What do you think I would try to wear?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“Probably something bright purple or one of those old-fashioned coats that make you look like someone trying to be a vampire from one of those Anne Rice books before she found religion.”
Hmm, purple. Or a Victorian coat? The man knew me, it seemed.
“I wouldn’t do that to you at the Brownlow,” I teased him. “Maybe at the premiere night of the Triple F.”
He laughed. “That’s probably normal dress at that event.”
Sadly, he was correct.
“I knew you would say you would understand,” he continued, “but I know it still hurts.”
“It does, a little bit,” I admitted. “But like you say, I understand.”
“I guess I just thought if I didn’t talk about it then I wouldn’t have to confront it with you.”
“Yeah, that always works.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry about it.”
“Don’t be. Just talk to me from now on,” I told him.
“I promise. And hey, thanks for setting up that segue. How about you do the same with Roger?” he asked, not at all subtly.
“Good night, Dec.”
“Night, babe.”
Damn, he did the
babe
thing again, beating me to the punch. It would have sounded daft if I had repeated it back to him, so I just had to let it be. For now.
164 | SEAN KENNEDY
THE next few days were filled with continual pleas from Fran and Declan to give in and speak to Roger. I, of course, let those pleas fall on selectively deaf ears. Until Roger turned up at the office.
It was close to five, Nyssa had already left because of a “dental appointment”. I had locked up and was coming out of the lift when I ran right into the friend I was currently kind-of-feuding with.
“Hi,” Roger said, kind of dopily.
“Yeah, hi,” I replied, just as dopily.
“I, uh, came in to pick up Fran but thought I’d try and catch you as well.”
That irked me. “How nice to be your afterthought.” I started walking through the lobby doors and out onto the street beyond.
“Hey!” Roger protested, not that far behind me. “In case you’ve forgotten, I
have
been trying to talk to you.”
“And in case
you’ve
forgotten, I’ve been ignoring you.”
“And how long is that going to go on for?”
“I don’t know. As long as I feel like it.”
We had reached the intersection of Swanston and Collins, where I normally caught my tram. The streets were already packed with people rushing to go home.
“Where are you going?” Roger asked as I stopped to wait for the pedestrian light to cross over the tram tracks.
“Home.”
“I said I would give you a lift.”
“And I’d rather catch the tram.”
To tell you the truth, I was feeling a little perverse pleasure in tormenting him. It was payback for how I felt on Saturday night, dishing it back to him. He looked genuinely hurt that I was refusing after days and many overtures to try and deal with the problem.
“Fucking Declan Tyler,” he fumed. “We never used to fight like this, until
he
came along.”
“
He
isn’t the problem,” I said pointedly.
“Oh, and I am?”