Tigerland (18 page)

Heyward grinned at him and then turned to me. “You’re going to be watching, yeah?” he asked as he got out of his chair.

“It’s what my job involves.”

“Well, I hope you find it interesting.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all, but I didn’t respond. I also didn’t drop eye contact with him as he squeezed past me in some futile show of nonchalance.

Coby gave me a quick
who does this guy think he is?
look, and I shrugged.

I suspected even Heyward didn’t really know the answer to that question, which made his coming out even harder to fathom. Dec was outed, and he chose not to bury it. But what was Heyward’s reasoning? He didn’t even seem happier for it, and his bravado was so over the top it didn’t come across as genuine.

I was beginning to understand why Dec never knew what was going on in their relationship. I knew I had my moments of stubbornness and obfuscation, but even at my worst I had nothing on Heyward.

I hope you find it interesting
. Fuck, that sounded like the Chinese curse of living in interesting times. But Heyward wanted to wound his prey so they would be easier to take down later, and I wasn’t going to be like that.

Even if my legs were a little shaky as I went to find Fran and Roger again.

We were almost ready to go into lockdown mode, but my friends still managed to fire out an astounding amount of questions about my meeting with Heyward before Coby started counting down the seconds to live transmission.

The regular hosts on the panel were seated on the couch that was the same shade of red as the Sherrin footballs used on the field. The guest usually got a chair to themselves, and in Heyward’s case his large frame definitely needed all of it. Our drag queen regular, Emcee Gee, seemed to be a little beside herself as she leaned in closer to Heyward. It also appeared that Heyward didn’t mind the attention, which probably accounted for the sour expression on cohost Lachie Fulworth’s face, as he already felt Emcee stole too much of the limelight. That wasn’t too hard to do when you wore a beehive adorned with all the football club badges.

And… we were on the air.

Just a normal night
, I said to myself, and it would become my mantra.

I gestured for Fran and Roger to follow me, and we made our way to the soundproof production room up a small flight of padded stairs. It was next to the control room, and I would usually be in there with the director, but I knew we all couldn’t fit and Roger and Fran wouldn’t be able to stay quiet long enough for the whole hour. They bombarded me with their still unanswered questions from before as I turned on the television that had a direct feed from the three cameras below. One was focused on the hosts and the other on the guests, with the third being a wide shot including all of them.

Heyward came across as much more personable on camera, which really pissed me off. The public, which already seemed to love him, were going to love him even more with each new wave of publicity he did. And I was helping contribute to it.

“Your lip is bleeding,” Fran remarked.

I didn’t even know I was chewing on it. It was a habit I had picked up from Dec over the years, except his modus operandi was chewing on his cheek. Fran handed me a tissue, and I dabbed at the sore spot.

“Maybe you should call Dec,” Roger suggested.

I shook my head, not taking my eyes off Heyward on the screen. “Best not to.”

Even though I couldn’t see it, I could
feel
Roger and Fran looking at each other.

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling a bit of tissue off my lip and wincing.

“You look it,” Roger said.

“Shut up. I’m listening.” I started biting at my thumb instead, the metallic taste of blood at the back of my throat. A beer would probably wash that away, but I didn’t trust myself around Heyward if alcohol became involved. I had a vision of me stumbling drunk onto the set and making a total fool of myself on live television.

Although that would
really
bring some attention to CTV, I doubted that would be the kind of publicity Gigi would appreciate.

“You’re a big old spunk!” Emcee was gushing. “A big old spunk!”

Quality sports journalism there. I rolled my eyes. Emcee was usually quite on the ball—yeah, obvious pun—with her knowledge of sport, but she seemed to have fallen too far under Heyward’s spell. Lachie was trying to bring the conversation back to something other than Heyward’s shaggability, but was having little success. I reached into my pocket for my headset and activated it.

“Coby?”

His reply was instantaneous. “Boss! Where the hell have you been?”

“Distracted.”

“Bruce is chucking a shit fit!”

“Emcee, right? What the fuck is going on with her?”

“Heyward, obviously.”

“Has Bruce spoken to her?”

“She isn’t listening.”

“How long until the first break?”

“Four minutes.”

Too long.

“Get Lachie to talk over her and introduce that package about gays in sport that we prepared.”

“Okay. What are you planning?”

“An abduction.”

Roger and Fran were watching me with unabashed interest. “Be back in five,” I told them.

Running down the stairs, I pulled my mobile out and called Suki.

When she answered I hissed her name, unable to speak normally in case she was close to set and would be overheard by the equipment. “Where are you?”

“In makeup. What’s wrong, Simon?”

“I need you on set now!”

“But I’m not due on for fifteen minutes!”

“Change of plans. I’m coming to get you.”

Suki was our rugby and women’s sport specialist, which was why she wasn’t involved with the Heyward interview, although she wasn’t exactly lacking in AFL knowledge either. She was just getting out of the same makeup chair Heyward had been in twenty minutes ago when I got to her, Tina behind her packing away her makeup, now that everybody who needed it was dealt with.

“What’s going on?” Suki asked.

“Emcee is making a mess out of the Heyward interview, and Lachie is about to explode.”

Suki grinned widely. She and Emcee weren’t the best of friends, and more so when she actually dropped her drag persona and became Filip Carver again. “She’s going to hate me when I replace her.”

“And you’ll love every second of it.”

“You can get that other prick for me, too.” Tina threw herself into the chair, looking tired.

“I’m sorry about Heyward,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, he’s treating everyone like shit. Including me.”

“He has a reason for treating you like shit.”

“Thanks, Tina. Your support is awesome.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Suki said, giving her girlfriend a sweet little peck on the lips. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, baby.”

She yelped as Tina pulled her into her lap and demanded more than a peck.

“Hey, office decorum!” I protested.

Suki pulled away from Tina, laughing. “He wasn’t saying that the night we caught him and Dec in here, was he?”

“We were pashing, nothing else,” I said, sure I was red-faced.

“At that point,” Tina teased. “Who knows what we might have seen had we walked in five minutes later.”

“We don’t have time for this,” I said hurriedly, grabbing Suki by the hand. “Come on!”

“Bye!” Suki called to Tina over her shoulder as we fled the short distance into the studio space.

Emcee was leaning over towards Heyward, who was nervously standing his ground. Thankfully, I could hear Lachie saying, “We have a small piece here we’d like to share on the state of play where it comes to gay people in sports, and when we return we’ll be speaking again with Greg Heyward.”

The lights dimmed slightly to let everyone know the set currently wasn’t on air. Suki and I came around the back of Emcee’s and Lachie’s couch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lachie demanded of Emcee.

“It’s called an interview,” Emcee huffed.

“More like an episode of
Perfect Match
,” Lachie said.

“You just can’t help yourself. I get it,” Heyward told Emcee.

That even seemed to stump her. “It’s okay. I’m over it now.”

After that quick turnaround, I almost felt bad about what I had to do. “Emcee, you’re off. Suki’s taking over.”

“What?” Emcee demanded, jumping to her feet and towering over me. “You can’t do that!”

“He
is
the producer,” Lachie reminded her.

“Is there a problem?” Heyward asked.

I ignored him. “We want to be seen as a serious sports show, not
Let’s Have a Perve
,” I told Emcee. “Normally you’re fantastic, but tonight you’re all over the shop.”

“I told you, I’m fine
now
,” Emcee pleaded.

“Sorry, no. Suki, sit!”

“I’m not a dog, Simon.” But Suki sat next to Lachie anyway.

“I’m sorry. Suki, sit, please. Oh, you’re already sitting. Good. Good.”

“You’re losing it,” Emcee grumbled.

“You can come back on when we return to the panel.” In other words, when Heyward’s interview was over and he was no longer on set.

“You can’t do this!” Emcee cried again, but already knew she had lost.

“He’s the producer!” Suki and Lachie said in unison, while Heyward watched on with bemusement.

Coby appeared at my side, pulling on my arm. “Back in forty seconds.”

“Take Emcee backstage,” I told him. “And don’t let her near the alcohol.”

Coby nodded and pulled Emcee away. She stumbled along on her platforms like a petulant child, and I wasn’t looking forward to later on in the night when the makeup and dress were removed and the even more strident Filip Carver appeared.

I sprinted, or more like a faster shuffle than walking, back up the stairs and into the production room, where Fran and Roger were still watching the drama on the live feed.

“That is one angry drag queen,” Fran said.

“Really?” Roger asked. “I thought she seemed more sad than anything.”

Fran leaned in and gave him a huge kiss. “I love you, you dork.”

“Likewise,” I heard him murmur.

“Shut up!” I yelled, my eyes on the feed as the studio lights went up to full brightness again. “My show is imploding!”

“Drama queen,” Fran said, but mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key when I turned around.

“Welcome back,” Lachie crowed. “Emcee Gee has graciously allowed our other star reporter, Suki Majors, to participate in the rest of our interview with Greg Heyward.”

“Hi, Suki,” Heyward said, turning on the charm again.

“Arsehole,” I growled.

“Hello, Greg, nice to meet you,” Suki replied, although she wasn’t falling under his spell like Emcee had. You could have jumped to the conclusion that it may have been because she would rather meet an Olympic volleyballer, but Lachie was immune to Heyward as well, although he always made himself out to be Mr. Professional no matter what. “We’ve just watched a package about out gay sportspeople. Of course, you’ve just announced your retirement. Was there anything that particularly held you back from being out as an AFL player, unlike, say, Declan Tyler?”

It was a good, but harsh, question, and one that the mainstream media had been remarkably quiet about. I saw a momentary tension in Heyward’s brow, but it was gone as soon as it was noticed.

I wished Suki hadn’t mentioned Declan by name, but I guess he was going to come up in conversation sooner or later.

“I would say it was my own fear,” Heyward finally answered. “And in my own defence, I guess I would like to say that Declan didn’t come out on his own choice. Who knows when he would have done it if he hadn’t been outed by the papers?”

I wanted to drop a lighting rig on his head.

“But it could also be said that he didn’t try and hide it when he was outed,” Lachie said, and I could have run down and kissed him.

Heyward’s composure was slipping, and part of me felt a little sorry for him. I didn’t want our show to look like it was feeding upon its own, especially when other media had been a little more generous to him. There’s nothing worse than a community that doesn’t support a member when they come out, and it also wouldn’t look that great on my behalf when I was involved on a personal level. “You could say that, I guess. But isn’t it different for everyone?”

“But Tyler
was
outed, and he survived it. The two of you out together could have made it easier for each other,” Suki said.

“And that
was
something I thought about for a while. But then I saw some of the other problems Declan encountered. Like troubles with fans, and even some dissension within the ranks of his own team. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

Dammit, was he making me feel a little empathy? What was wrong with me? I had to remind myself that this was part of his charm offensive, and that he had shown quite a different side to himself before he walked on stage. It just irked me that the public wouldn’t see that behind the scenes Heyward we had been exposed to.

“Did you know about Tyler?” Suki asked.

It was at that moment that everything became movie clichéd slow-motion to me. I am sure I heard myself yelling
Suuuuuukkkiiiiii, nooooooo!
while running for the door of the office. Fran and Roger were watching me, mouths agape, as I flew out the door and down the stairs.

It wasn’t Suki’s fault. It was a natural question to ask, and she didn’t know about Declan and Heyward. Only Abe and Lisa, Fran and Roger—Tim had guessed, but never had it confirmed for him.

Even as my world swirled slowly around me, I could hear Heyward say at perfectly normal speed, “It’s hard not to know about him when he was your partner for over a year.”

The world collided back into me as if I’d been punched in the chest, and I came to a standstill. It was too late.

I could see Suki and Lachie sit up straight, shocked by the news. They didn’t know how to continue. Part of them were still wanting to act loyally to me, who had worked with them for the past three years, and the journalist part of them knew they had the biggest scoop of all—an exclusive nobody else could take away from them.