Tigers & Devils (17 page)

She hugged me, almost crushing my ribs in the process. “I love you, Simon.”

And as her reward, I mumbled, “I love you too.”

It made her cry. Jesus. “I’m so happy,” she sobbed. “This is a beautiful moment.”

“Would you like a tissue?” I asked.

“Don’t ruin it,” she warned.

The door opened, and Roger stepped in to see this strange little tableau. “What the hell is going on?”

AND that is how I found myself on a six o’clock flight to Hobart. I barely had enough time to rush home, beg for Maggie’s forgiveness, throw some clothes together in a bag, and run back out into my front yard where Fran and Roger sat waiting in their car. They had followed me back home so they could drive me to the airport. Fran was overflowing with excitement, imagining the gay romantic comedy she was writing in her head. Roger was amused by the fact that I was doing this crazy thing, and I was sure he would be bringing it up for years to come:
the day Simon went wildly insane for love
. On the way to the airport, it dawned on me. “I don’t know his address.”

That put a dampener on Fran’s plans. “What?”

I repeated myself.

“How can you
not
know his address, Simon?” she practically shrieked.

114 | SEAN KENNEDY

“Because he lives in another state, and I’ve never been to his house because of that very reason!”

She drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel, thinking furiously. “Right. Call him.”

“And say what?”

“That you want his address, stupid!”

“For what reason?”

“To send him flowers.”

“No way!” Roger and I said together.

“Fucking men,” Fran fumed. “Just do it!”

Too scared to raise her ire any further, I opened my mobile and called Declan.

“Hi,” he said warmly as he picked up. “I was just about to call you.”

“What’s your address?” I blurted out.

Fran and Roger groaned at my finesse.

“What was that noise?” Declan asked.

“Trolls,” I replied casually.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Just a little bit.”

“You’re not driving?”

“No, Fran is. She only had one beer.”

“Oh. Where are you going?”

“I’m asking the questions. What’s your address?”

He gave it to me, and I scribbled it down. “Can I at least ask why?”

“I’m sending you flowers.”

“Wow, you
are
drunk.”

“What, you don’t like flowers?” I could hear Roger snigger behind me. “Fine, it doesn’t have to be flowers. They have those sites now online, you can send cartons of beer or boxes of freckles and caramel buds. Would you rather have beer and caramel buds?”

“
I’d
like beer and caramel buds,” Roger murmured. I ignored him.

“Really?” Declan asked, sounding slightly dubious. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be using my credit card so freely while under the influence.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll choose it. And you’ll probably get something really crap.”

“Simon, are you okay?”

TIGERS AND DEVILS | 115

It was a question I should have been asking him. But if I spoke to him for much longer, I would give the game away. Fran had already drummed it into me that this was to be a surprise. She was my romantic counsellor, apparently.

“I’m fine. See you.”

I hung up on him. And turned off my mobile so he couldn’t call back.

“You could have handled that a bit better,” Fran said.

“I was about to crack,” I replied.

“That happened a long time ago,” Roger muttered as he stared out the window.

I HAD to wait an hour for a cab from the airport. I wasn’t going to risk attempting public transport.

It was in the taxi, with the buzz of the beer finally wearing off, that I started to have doubts about what I was doing. Hobart was a small town, roughly two hundred thousand people in comparison to Melbourne’s almost four million. Declan would be even more recognisable here than back home. And here I was, a guy, arriving on his front door step. If there was a doorman, should I cover myself up by claiming to be Declan’s cousin? Or would that be even more suspicious?

The beer buzz was now heading into paranoiaville.

The apartment complex Declan had given me the address for was in Battery Point, which seemed to be a rather pretty, perhaps blatantly touristy maritime village. You could tell that back in the convict era it was probably a hardened seaport, but now it was gussied up and yuppified and more likely to sell patchouli oil and vegetable-based soaps than seafood. I tried not to be too judgemental about it all as I stared up at the fancy seven-storey building before me and entered the lobby. There wasn’t any doorman, but it seemed that after a certain time of night the interior doors were locked. I found myself in a small alcove before the main lobby and a wall with all the apartments listed with a buzzer next to each. There went the surprise. I pressed Declan’s number and waited. A fuzzy-sounding Declan answered. “Simon? What the hell?”

“Uh, surprise?” I said, just as confused as him. “How do you—?”

“Wave to the camera,” he instructed me wryly.

I turned to see the small squat box, attached to the wall, following my every move. I did as he said and gave a small wave. A buzzer sounded, the interior door swung open, and I had access to the lobby.

I scratched at my wrist unhappily as I rode the elevator to Declan’s floor. This was a mistake. A huge mistake.

I was still contemplating heading back downstairs and getting a ride to the airport, even as my feet took me to Declan’s door. I knocked with a heavy heart, and the door

116 | SEAN KENNEDY

swung open to reveal Declan with a huge smile upon his face. He pulled me in and crushed me against his chest as he kissed me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked again, breathily.

“Like I said,” I was still trying to catch my own, “surprise.”

“I TAKE it you’re not mad, then?” I asked groggily as we lay in bed.

“Fuck, no,” he laughed. “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

Now starting to feel the cold, I pulled the doona up over our naked forms. “Fran and beer helped me decide.”

“When I finally meet Fran, I’m going to give her the biggest kiss she’s ever had in her life.”

“Roger and I might be unhappy about that.”

“Fine, does she like wine?”

“She’s Italian—are you kidding?”

He rolled over onto his side so he could look at me properly. “Seriously, I feel so much better. I hated leaving you today. I want to kidnap you and keep you here for a week rather than two days.”

“It’s not kidnapping if the victim wants to be kept.” I yawned.

“I guess not. But when I say a week, I really mean a month.”

“Is that all?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

I pressed against him. “Bad pun.”

“DEC?”

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“I was worried about coming here.” Half asleep and in the dark, as usual it was easier to be more forthright.

“Why?”

“Because this is your territory, and it’s a much smaller town—”

“I’m happy you’re here.”

“But it could be a problem—”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did, but—”

“Simon, no buts. Not right now.”

TIGERS AND DEVILS | 117

“Okay.” I didn’t say anything about
his
bad pun. It seemed as if Declan had his concerns as well, but he was pushing them away. It was easier to exist in our little bubble, as if the world around us didn’t exist. It felt safer, but it was illusory. Which I guess is why we liked being with each other so much. It felt like we could go on perfectly together if the rest of the world just didn’t get involved.

“SIMON?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to sound like a fucking idiot for saying this—”

“Then don’t say it,” I laughed.

“Just—you and me, that’s all there is, right?”

I struggled up onto my elbows to look down on him in the dark. “What?”

“Don’t get insulted.”

“I’m too confused to be insulted right now. What are you asking?”

“You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

Okay, I was slightly insulted now. “I find it hard enough to get one partner, let alone juggling more than one.”

“Don’t get pissy. I want to make sure we’re—”

“Were you seeing anyone else?” I asked, scared of his answer. He must have heard the tinge of panic in my tone, as he sat up. “No!”

“Okay, so it’s just us. That’s sorted.”

“Hey—”

“Dec, just leave it.”

“No. I didn’t mean to insult you, Simon. Just—”

“What?”

He drew his knees up to his chest, and picked uncomfortably at the bandage.

“What, Dec?”

“I’ve been a bit paranoid about it since… well, the last guy I went out with.”

“He cheated on you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“
He
cheated on
you
?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, it happens, Simon.”

“But to
you
?”

“Will you stop saying that?”

“I’m sorry, I’m… shocked as hell that somebody would cheat on
you
.”

118 | SEAN KENNEDY

“I don’t get you sometimes. You seem so unfazed by me, unlike the rest of the public, and then there are just some times when you say things like that.” Declan thumped his knee in frustration, and I grabbed his hand so that he couldn’t do it again. He continued. “As if I’m special. Simon, I’m just like any other guy. And sometimes that means you get cheated on, and that fucks you up.”

I slipped my arm around his waist. “I’m sorry. But you
are
special. People are always going to see you differently. And although it really doesn’t matter to me that you’re Declan Tyler, god of football—”

He laughed weakly.

“—sometimes I will be amazed if someone does something against you. And not just because you’re Declan Tyler, god of football. But because you’re Declan Tyler, guy I like.”

He kissed me. “Good answer.”

“HERE, babe. Coffee.”

My eyes sprang open. Did I just hear what I thought I heard?

I wasn’t sure. I rolled around and found a mug in my face. I sat up, and Declan handed it down. He then climbed in beside me, holding his own. I sipped at my coffee in silence, wondering if I should say something about what had been said. There was an awkward air hanging between us, and Declan drummed his fingers against his mug.

“So—” I began.

“Too soon, right?” he asked.

Relieved, I laughed. “I didn’t imagine it!”

“You thought—”

“You called me
babe
,” I laughed. “
Babe
!”

“Okay, you don’t like terms of endearment.”

I took his mug off him, and set both of them next to the bed. He looked at me quizzically as I pulled him over onto me and kissed him. “Oh,
babe, babe, babe
,” I teased, covering his face with kisses.

“Okay, I get it. I won’t say it anymore.”

“Don’t you dare stop it,” I warned him.

“Sure thing,” he said, grinning. “
Babe
.”

TIGERS AND DEVILS | 119

FRESHLY showered and caffeined up, we moved into the kitchen. In the daylight and not as distracted by Declan’s charms, I now got to see exactly what kind of apartment I was in.

I felt like I was in a
Modern Home
layout. Dec had opened the blinds, and I was greeted by a picture-postcard view of the harbour and Mount Wellington rising up just behind it.

“Like the view?” Declan grinned.

“It sure beats my view of Mr. Grimmualdson’s veggie garden,” I said wryly, watching the boats bob upon the waves below me.

“Mr. Grimmualdson might argue with that,” Dec replied, filling the coffee machine.

“I could stare out there forever.”

“You
do
look slightly hypnotised.”

“This isn’t the penthouse, is it?” I asked.

Declan scoffed at me. “There’s no penthouse in this complex.”

It sure seemed like a penthouse, but I was only comparing it to my own weatherboard shack in North Brunswick.

Declan’s loungeroom was tastefully and sparsely furnished. A faux-vintage coffee table sat upon a large dark rug. Two expensive leather couches sat at opposite ends to each other, facing a large entertainment unit.

But there was something vital missing.

“Where’s your telly?” I asked.

He moved beside me and picked up a remote control from the coffee table. The entertainment unit slid open to reveal a huge plasma television that was practically half the size of my loungeroom wall at home.