Leopard Spots - 4. Chapter 4

“Close the door, Dave, and sit down,” Peter said as he waved a hand towards his visitor’s chair. “There’s a couple of things I want to discuss.”

Dave frowned as he did as he was told. “Is there something wrong?”

Peter stared for a moment. “I don’t know. I will start by saying I think you’re currently playing the best football I’ve seen you play since you joined the club.”

Dave smiled. “Thanks, Peter.”

“First things first. Did Andrew help you with your sleeping problem?”

Dave shrugged. “I got a good night’s sleep last night. So far, so good. Give me a week or two and I’ll let you know for sure.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I’d like you to keep me informed, because if sleep’s the root cause of the problems, then that’ll make me happy.”

Dave frowned. “What do you mean, problems?”

“Dave, as I said, you’re playing your best football at the moment. Your level of aggressiveness is much higher, and that’s being reflected in your statistics as well as in inspiring fear in your opponents.” Peter grimaced. “The problem is that you’re extending that same aggression to your teammates and coaches at training. Both Will and Julie have picked up on it, and I’ve seen it, too. Roger also privately informed me of what happened in the change room after the game on Saturday.”

Dave slammed his fists onto Peter’s desk as he leapt to his feet. “I don’t need people prying into my life!”

Peter stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving Dave’s. “Sit down, Dave, or walk out that door and don’t come back. They’re your choices at the moment. There’ll be others after we’ve finished talking, but you will either listen to me or you’re off the team. Now, sit!”

Dave stood motionless for a couple of seconds and then dropped back into the chair. He crossed his arms as he scowled up at Peter.

“Thank you.” Peter sat back down. “Dave, the concern everyone has is simple: are you controlling your aggression, or is it controlling you. If it’s the former, then all you need to do is dial back a touch and direct it more accurately. If it’s the latter, then you need help.”

“I don’t need any fucking help!”

Peter stared at Dave, trying to keep his face expressionless as he let the silence grow.

Dave glared back. The two engaged in a battle of wills that was eventually won by Peter. Dave dropped his eyes and repeated softly, almost sadly, “I don’t need any help.”

Peter replied in a tone just as soft. “Maybe you don’t, but your display just now says otherwise. I’ll repeat my question, Dave: are you in control of your aggression, or is it controlling you?”

Dave didn’t lift his head, but Peter could see the shoulders shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Dave, I’ve had six different people tell me that they’re concerned for you.” Peter jumped in as Dave lifted his head to speak. “That’s for you, not about you. I’m hoping that the problem is, as you told me yesterday, a lack of sleep and that the sleeping pills that Andrew’s prescribed will address that issue. However, you told me you just got a good night’s sleep, and you still went over the top just now. Is the lack of sleep the real cause, or is that just a symptom of something else?”

Dave grimaced and looked away. “I don’t know. I thought it was that girl that I met. She was great, but when I rang her, she told me she didn’t want to see me again. That was when it started. I’ve had trouble sleeping ever since.”

Peter cocked his head. “Was that just after the practise match against the Werribee Tigers?”

Dave nodded, his face still averted.

“Dave, I’d like you to see Andrew again. Discuss this with him, and let’s see if we can work out what’s really happening. He may need to refer you to a specialist, but I want you to get yourself back under control.”

Dave winced. He turned his head to meet Peter’s gaze. “Am I still on the team?”

Peter smiled. “As long you can keep control, yes. Hopefully, we can stop things from escalating before you hurt someone or get yourself reported. Even more importantly, before you hurt yourself.”

Dave’s mouth dropped open. “I’d never...”

Peter shook his head. “So far, no, but I’m not just talking about being physically hurt. You’re starting to drive your friends away from you. In the long run, that’ll hurt you just as much as an injury – maybe more.”

Dave grunted and then nodded. “Okay, Peter. I’ll contact Andrew and make an appointment.”

“He’s got a vacancy at twelve. It’s normally his lunch break, but he’ll skip it if it’ll help you.”

Dave glared. “You had it all set up! What’s the point of talking to me if you had it all pre-arranged?”

Peter gave Dave what was hopefully a sympathetic smile. “I told you, Dave: people are concerned for you. I told Andrew you might need to speak to him again, and he offered to give up his lunch break so the two of you can have a good long chat. It’s up to you if you want to take it, because nothing is going to change without your cooperation.”

* * *

Neil was waiting in line for his English class when he first heard the rumours.

“...he’s a faggot!”

Neil gulped and then told himself that they couldn’t be referring to him. If they were, everyone would be staring at him, and they weren’t. He edged closer to the speaker, one of the school’s more athletic students, though Neil couldn’t remember which sports he played. Neil kept his gaze elsewhere as he strained his ears to hear the conversation between two of his classmates.

“He’s got to be joking. Someone’s spreading malicious lies for some reason.”

“Maybe. It could be Clarissa, since I heard he broke up with her on the weekend. But accusing him of being gay is a stretch. Who’d believe it unless it’s true?”

“Well, we could always ask. Here he comes, now.”

Neil glanced around and grimaced. This particular class was his least favourite, not because of the subject matter but because of his classmates. It was the only class he shared with Doug as well his two main cronies: Liam and Rod. All three were approaching.

Steven Anderson, the athlete that Neil had originally overheard, stepped forward. Neil noticed that everyone had gone quiet with the arrival of the three bullies – something that didn’t normally happen. They were all watching to see what was going to happen.

“Liam, there’s a rumour going around that you’re a fag,” Steven said.

Liam opened his mouth to speak, but Doug reacted first. He stepped forward and shoved Steven against the wall and then held him there with a hand on his chest. Doug brought his face up close to Steven’s. “Liam’s not a fag!”

“Doug...” Liam started to say.

“Stay out of this, Liam.” Doug kept his attention on Steven. “I’m going to say this only once, Stevo. If I need to repeat it, I’ll do so by connecting my fists with as many parts of your face as I can, starting with your teeth and nose. Liam’s gay. He’s not a fag. I don’t want to hear that word from you or anyone else ever again.”

Steven’s shocked expression transformed into one of anger. He flicked his left arm up, knocking Doug’s arm away. Steven followed up, using both hands to push Doug back. “Never, I repeat, never touch me again.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care who the fuck he sleeps with. I thought he should know about the rumours, but if he’s so precious to you that you don’t want to hear them, you can go fuck yourself. Or, if you prefer, let Liam do it for you.”

Doug’s face went red with anger, but Liam grabbed him from behind before he could do anything.

“Leave it, Doug. Stevo’s cool.” Liam glanced at Steven. “You’re cool, right?”

Steven glared at Doug and then nodded his head to Liam. “With you, yes. With Douglas here, I’m not so sure. What’ll it be, Douglas? Do we need to sort this out at the back of the oval at lunchtime?”

Doug shook off Liam and glared back. “As long as you’re cool with Liam, there’s nothing to sort out.” He raised a finger. “But if I hear that word again...”

Steven sneered. “What? Fag?”

Doug surged forward, this time grabbed by both Liam and Rod. “He’s gay, not a fag!”

Steven shrugged. “Same thing.”

“It’s not the fucking same thing, and if you had the slightest–”

“What the heck is going is going on here?” Mr. Kowalski stepped up next to where Doug was being held back from Steven. He frowned at the four guys as he adjusted his bow tie. “Do I need to send you all to the principal’s office?”

Neil slipped a couple of steps away to ensure he wouldn’t get caught in anything that might happen next. He hadn’t noticed their English teacher approaching, and obviously neither had the combatants.

Doug straightened, his friends letting go as he did so. “No, sir. Steven and I were just having a vigorous discussion on whether certain words were really synonyms.”

Mr. Kowalski stared down his nose through his thick glasses at Doug. “And those words were...?”

Doug’s gaze went from Liam, to Steven, and then to his teacher. Neil thought Doug looked uncertain, but then his expression hardened. “Gay and fag. I don’t believe they mean the same thing; the connotations of the two are different.”

Mr. Kowalski stayed silent for a moment and then glanced around. “Everyone inside. The class is about to start.”

Doug stood for a moment as if expecting to be given different instructions and then headed into the classroom.

Neil, as was his habit, waited before entering. It had been a game of chess since the start of the school year. It was the class immediately before lunch, and Doug, Liam, and Rod would often make sure they ‛escorted’ Neil out. Neil had tried getting there early to take one of the seats closest to the door, but one of the three would then sit near him and make sure he didn’t get away. Neil’s latest tactic was to come in late and hopefully find there were no empty seats near his trio of tormentors. The danger came when one of them was seated between him and the exit and hence able to intercept him before he could get away.

It wasn’t every week that they did that – just enough to keep him on edge. When Neil entered the room, he gave a sigh of relief. The three were seated together on the opposite side of the room. Neil took an empty seat as far from them as possible.

Moments later, Mr. Kowalski stood behind his desk at the front of room and swept his gaze over the class. “Before I do the roll, I wanted to say how impressed I am at the dedication of some of my students. Of course, the correct way to address disputes regarding the English language is through reason and argument, not fisticuffs. To reinforce that approach, everyone will be required to submit a one-thousand-word essay to me by Monday morning on whether connotations matter when determining if two words are synonyms.”

Mr. Kowalski had a small satisfied smile on his face after the collective groan from the class. “The example that prompted this morning’s extracurricular discussion will be required to be included in your essays. For those few of you that didn’t hear Mr. Harding this morning, you will need to include the example of ‛fag’ and ‛gay’ in your argument.” He glanced at Doug and then Steven. “I would like to thank Mr. Harding and Mr. Anderson for prompting this extra work with their enthusiastic debate before class.

“Now, time for the roll call.”

Neil couldn’t stop himself from staring across the room, though he was by no means the only person doing so. Most were glaring, but Neil was contemplative. If there was one person in the world that he would never have expected to be defending gays, it was Doug Harding. Neil glanced at Liam as he wondered if he could use the fact that they were both gay to stop the harassment. The risk would be high, but the benefit in outing himself to Liam might make it worthwhile.

* * *

Glenda Williams stuck her head through the door of the gym. “Jim, can you see me in the front office before you leave today?”

Jim was doing his post-workout stretches. “Sure. Is it anything important? I’ll be finished soon if you need me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not urgent. I’ve just got some stuff for you.”

Jim frowned. “What sort of stuff?”

Glenda grinned. “Letters. We’ve got a stack of them addressed to you in care of the Leopards. It looks like you’ve got your own little fan club writing to you.”

Jim groaned, and his head dropped.

Glenda laughed. “It’s not that bad. Anyway, I’ve got them on my desk. Come and see when you’re ready.”

After she’d gone, Greg Chambers, one of the other midfielders and the second oldest member of the team, spoke up from where he’d just completed a set of leg presses. “How does it feel to be a celebrity?”

Jim grunted. Conversations with Greg were usually restricted to football, and he was a little surprised at the topic. “I hate it. I want my old life back – the one where I was just another football player.”

Greg chuckled. “Sorry, but that’s not going to happen.” He smirked at Jim. “And wasn’t that old life without Tony? Are you saying you want to break up with him after only going out for a week?”

Jim snorted and smiled. “Just under, but you’re right. If there’s one good thing that’s happened in all of this, it’s Tony.”

Greg’s smirk slipped away. “Two good things,” he said quietly. “You saved the club, too. We all get to keep playing football because of you. Some of us don’t understand how you can prefer a guy to a girl, but we’re still grateful for what you’ve done.”

“Thanks, Greg.” Jim started his final stretches. “Tony tells me that the media attention will be over soon. I’m not sure he’s right. I mightn’t have cameras parked outside my front door, but I think there will always be something that brings someone knocking to ask me to comment.”

Greg blinked as he moved over to the bench press and started loading weights onto the bar. “You’ve got cameramen outside your home?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It was down to one this morning, but yes. I’m hoping he’ll be gone today. I let them have a few photos last night when I arrived home with Ty, and that seems to have satisfied most of them.” He grimaced. “Now I need to decide what I want to do about the magazine photo shoots.”

“What photo shoots?”

“A number of magazines want to do an article on me – with photos. I’m going to turn most of them down, but there’s a couple that have me tempted. They could do some good, and that makes me wonder if I’m being selfish if I don’t do them.”

“Do some good in what way?” Greg moved to the end of the bench. “Can you spot for me before you go?”

“Sure.” Jim moved to stand at the top end while Greg lay down. “Even though I didn’t want it, it seems I’m now a gay icon and a role model for young gays. If I can show that being gay is normal, especially for those who play sports, it’ll help some to gain the confidence to come out and for others to support those who do.”

Greg put his hands on the bar but didn’t lift. “What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I’ll do them. One’s a gay magazine – to give confidence to those who’ve accepted they’re gay – and the other is Men’s Health. An article in there would be good publicity for the club as well as showing a lot of guys that being gay doesn’t make me different.”

Greg smiled. “You are different. The key point is that being different doesn’t make you bad.”

Jim frowned and then nodded. “I wouldn’t’ve worded it quite like that, but you’re right. Thanks, Greg.” He smiled down at his fellow midfielder. “Enough slacking off. How many reps are you doing?”

“Okay, Dad.” Greg grinned at Jim’s jolt of surprise to the nickname. “I’m doing three sets of twelve.”

“Then get going. Talking isn’t working.”

* * *

Neil walked right into an ambush. He thought by leaving the classroom as soon as the lunch bell rang that he’d avoid any problems. He was a lot closer to the door than Doug, Liam, and Rod, so he was sure he could get out of the room and disappear before anything happened.

Clarissa was outside, her arms crossed and her right toe tapping impatiently. “There you are! Remember, you owe me.” Without waiting for a response, she wrapped Neil’s right arm with her left and pulled him along.

“Where are we going?” Neil made a half-hearted attempt to untangle his arm, but Clarissa’s grip was firm.

Clarissa’s expression was one of determination. “Out where people can see us.”

Neil swallowed. His intention had been to go to one of his hiding spots so he could eat his lunch in private while keeping an eye open for Doug and the other bullies. Being out in the open wasn’t what he considered to be a safe tactic.

“For the record, you and I are starting to date,” Clarissa said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Wh...what?” Neil stumbled as he tried to stop walking.

Clarissa paused and glared at him. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re only my date until I can find someone better. I refuse to let that jerk have the last word, and you’re my way of telling him that.”

“I don’t understand.” Neil started to tremble as he realised that the situation was out of control and heading towards disaster.

Clarissa frowned, and then her face softened. She glanced around and then pulled Neil across to the side where they would have a modicum of privacy. “I can’t believe you’re this naive. You really are hopeless.”

Neil narrowed his eyes. “Hopeless? Are you sure that’s the word you were looking for?”

Clarissa shrugged. “You and I both know that the word I was thinking of was pathetic. I was, however, too polite to say it.” She stared at Neil with an expression he couldn’t read. His best guess was that it was the look she’d give to an interesting bug before she dissected it.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Clarissa and Neil both turned to see Doug, Rod and Liam standing nearby. Doug and Liam were scowling, while Rod seemed perplexed.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Huey, Dewey, and Jerk Face,” Clarissa said. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yes, I’ve got a problem. You know that no one talks to Four-Dork unless I give the okay.” Doug leant forward. “Stay away from him, Clarissa.”

“No.” With a flick of the head, Clarissa dismissed Doug and turned back to Neil. She wrapped her arm around his again. “Come on. Let’s leave Jerk to play with his playmates. We probably don’t want to see what they get up to.”

Neil gave Doug a nervous look as he allowed himself to be led away. Doug didn’t look happy, but he didn’t follow. Rod look confused, but Liam’s face was expressionless. Neil didn’t understand what was going on, and that worried him.

Clarissa paused at the corner of the building. She glanced back the way they’d come and smiled. She then turned to Neil. “Thank you.” She put her arms around Neil’s neck and kissed him on the lips. Neil just stood there, too stunned to react.

Clarissa stepped back and frowned as she glanced up and down Neil’s body. “Seriously, you’re not that bad looking. You’ve got the worst taste in clothes, and you need to work on your grooming, but I think you mightn’t scrub up too bad.” She smiled, but Neil didn’t feel it had any affection. “You can pick me up on Saturday morning, and I’ll take you shopping. You need a new wardrobe.”

“Why are you doing this? You’re not interested in me; you’re just using me.”

Clarissa frowned. “You should be grateful that someone’s paying attention to you.” She continued in a gentler tone. “Okay, yes, I’m using you, but take it while you can. I won’t screw you around, unlike that jerk back there.”

Neil stared, unsure what to say. He wouldn’t mind a friend, but he didn’t think that was what Clarissa was offering.

“By the way, what’s your name? I can’t call my boyfriend ‛Four-Dork’ all the time.”

“It’s Neil.” His tone was flat. She’d just quashed any thought he’d had that she might come to like him. He would prefer to be alone – a state he understood even if he didn’t like it – than to be a ball in whatever game she was playing.

“Fine. I’ve got to go see someone, but I’ll be back soon. You owe me, and you’re going to repay the favour by pretending to be my boyfriend.” She walked off before he could reply.

“You wish,” Neil muttered to himself.

* * *

Dave scowled. After talking with him for more than thirty minutes and not making any real progress, Andrew had written a referral to a psychologist. It was up to Dave to take the next step and make the appointment.

Dave told himself that he didn’t need to see anyone, that he could sort things out without help, but he knew he was lying to himself. That didn’t stop the feeling of frustration and helplessness that came from being made to admit that he needed a shrink. The most annoying thing for him was that he didn’t know why. Why had he been having trouble sleeping, and why had he had the same nightmare two nights in a row?

Peter would have to be told, but Dave told himself that no one else needed to know. It would just be him and the psychologist. Maybe he would get some answers.

* * *

Doug and Liam were strolling home from school. The two lived a couple of blocks away from each other and would usually leave together.

“Why now?” Doug asked in the middle of a discussion on current pop music.

Liam blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you decide to come out now? While I don’t mind, I didn’t really intend to spend the day beating up homophobic bigots. When you told me you’re gay in January, you said you were going to wait until the end of the year, after school was finished. What made you change your mind?”

Liam sighed. “It’s who, not what.”

Doug paused and stared at his friend. Liam took another step before he realised that Doug had stopped.

“Who?” Doug eyes widened as the implication sank in. “You’ve found someone!”

Liam chuckled. “Unfortunately, no. It’s nothing like that.” He resumed walking and waited for Doug to join him. “It’s what happened at the end of last week. Jim Henderson came out of the closet, and it made the news. My parents both expressed support for him, and so did a lot of other people. It made me think: if he could do it without causing problems, maybe I can, too.” He glanced at Doug. “That’s why. I didn’t hear anyone at school say anything bad about him on Friday, so I decided over the weekend to follow in his footsteps.”

“You could’ve told me what you were planning.” Doug’s tone sounded slightly hurt.

Liam grimaced. “Yeah, I probably should’ve. Sorry, but once I made the decision, things just started rolling.”

“How did your parents take the news?”

“That’s what I find out, tonight.”

Doug grabbed Liam’s arm, making both of them stop. “Seriously? You came out to the school before you told them?”

“Yeah...” Liam gave Doug a sheepish grin. “Not the smartest of moves, but that’s the way it turned out. Given how my folks reacted to Jim Henderson on the news, I think they’ll be fine.”

Doug narrowed his eyes. “You’ve still got your backup plan in place, though, right?”

Liam nodded. “I’ve got a bag packed, ready to go.”

“Anything in it that you especially need tomorrow?”

“No. Why?”

Doug let go of Liam, and the two resumed their walk. “Why don’t I take it home when I leave your place? That way, if you have to run you won’t have to carry the bag, too.”

Liam smiled. “Thanks, Doug.”

Doug waved a hand dismissively. “No problem. Now, onto a related subject, what are we going to do about Clarissa?”

“I honestly don’t care.” Liam snorted. “She thinks she’s insulting me by making a move on Four-Dork, but I just find it amusing.”

Doug frowned. “People have been commenting on her going from you to that loser. It doesn’t look good.”

Liam chuckled. “Yeah, it doesn’t look good...for her.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was dating her because I knew she wouldn’t ask me to do anything. She made it quite plain that she’s saving herself for marriage, and unlike some of the other girls, she really means it. If she wants to date Four-Dork, I don’t care. In fact, I had to keep myself from laughing out loud at the look on his face. I think he’s more terrified of her than he is of you.”

Doug frowned. “You think she looks desperate?”

Liam grinned. “I know she’s desperate. After all, why else would she make such a big show of finding someone else so quickly?”

Doug nodded slowly. “And what about you? Are you looking to find someone soon?”

Liam pulled a face. “I wish...”

Doug gave Liam a light punch in the bicep. “You will. Just give it time. Letting people know you’re available is the first step. I’m sure you’ll get offers soon. Just don’t throw yourself at the first person who says something. You never know what you’ll end up with if you did that.”

Liam laughed. “Thanks, mate. Your support is making this so much easier for me.”

Doug grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.” He frowned. “Hopefully, there’s not too much hassling at school. I don’t need to get suspended again, and you need others to come out if you’re going to find a boyfriend.”

Liam shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for next term. I wrote a letter on the weekend and posted it yesterday morning.”

“A letter? Why not an email?”

“I don’t have Jim Henderson’s email address.” Liam glanced across at his best friend. “I don’t know if you recall it, but the Lilydale Leopards came to our school last year to give a football clinic. I’ve sent Jim a letter asking if he could arrange the same for next term and if he could be one of the players who does the clinic.” He lowered his gaze as he continued walking. “If he shows up, we’ll really see how things pan out at school. If things go right for me and he gets a good reception, someone else may decide to come out of the closet.”

Doug slowly nodded his head. “I remember that clinic. Yeah, if he comes to the school, that would be really good for everyone. They’ll all be able to see that being gay doesn’t change who you are. He’s still a footballer even though he’s gay. You’re still you, even if you do perverted things in the bedroom.” Doug grinned to show he wasn’t being serious.

Liam laughed as he draped an arm across Doug’s shoulders. “Thanks, mate. I’m so glad I’ve got you as a best friend. Not every gay guy is this lucky.”

* * *

Ryan sniffed as he entered the kitchen. “That smells nice. What’s for dinner?”

Jim smiled as he looked up from where he’d been stirring the contents of the saucepan. “Risotto with grilled chicken. Tony’s going to join us, so I needed to make sure it would be gluten free. He said rice would be okay as long as I made things with fresh ingredients and avoided flour.”

“Any special reason he’s joining us?” Ryan asked as he headed to the cupboard. “Plates or bowls?”

“Plates. He’s got an early appointment tomorrow morning, so I suggested he spend the night here. Less travelling to do that way.”

Ryan grinned while pulling out five plates. “Sleeping on the couch, is he?”

Jim blushed. “Er...no.”

Ryan chuckled. “It’s okay, Jim. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“I know, but...” Jim shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream.” He poured some more chicken stock into the saucepan with the rice and continued to stir while double-checking the recipe he’d printed out.

“Speaking of dreams, did you notice that there weren’t any photographers outside when you got home?” Ryan put the plates on the table and headed back to get the cutlery.

“And it was about bloody time! That’s another reason to have a celebration dinner.”

Ryan paused. “Another reason? What else are we celebrating?”

Jim shrugged. “Being happy.” He grinned at Ryan. “I didn’t know I could be this happy. Not hiding any more...I can’t explain it. It’s made a huge difference to me.”

“A lot of people have noticed. You’re still the same person, but you’re...” Ryan scratched his head. “...more, if that makes sense, Jim with a bonus smile.”

Jim laughed. “Thanks, mate.” He glanced at what Ryan had in his hands. “We’ll need knives, too, for the chicken. I’m grilling a breast for each us, with the risotto as a side dish.”

“Okay. Were you planning beer or wine with dinner?”

“Wine, at least for Tony and me. He can’t drink beer, remember.”

Ryan grinned. “Unless it’s gluten-free beer. You obviously haven’t checked the back of the bar fridge recently.”

Jim flicked him a startled look. “There’s beer for Tony in there?”

Ryan nodded. “I saw Ty putting some in yesterday. He told me that he didn’t think it’ll be long before it’ll be needed.”

Jim laughed as he poured the last of the chicken stock into the saucepan. “He’s a brat.”

“He was right.” Ryan glanced at the clock. “He and Deon should be back from training soon. I’m pretty sure Will wasn’t going to keep them past six.”

“That’s what I heard, too. One last bit of specialist training for the forwards before the season starts.”

Ryan moved to the cupboard with the glasses. “What time is Tony showing up? And you didn’t answer my question about beer or wine.”

“I told him seven. He wanted to go home first to get a few things.” Jim rocked his head from side to side as he thought. “Don’t know on the drinks. Since we’ve got the option, we’ll let everyone decide for themselves. I was going to have wine, but that’s when I thought I’d be sharing the bottle with Tony. If he’s going to have beer I might have one, too.”

“I’ll put out glasses for both.” Ryan smiled at Jim. “Anything else I can do to help...Dad?”

Jim threw him a mock glare. “I think I need a drink...”

* * *

“Thanks, Jim, that was great,” Tony said as he pushed his empty plate away.

Deon silently agreed. He would’ve preferred some sort of sauce to go with the grilled chicken, but the risotto was creamy enough to make up for that lack.

“His name’s Da...er...forget it.” Ty dropped his head sheepishly.

Tony laughed. “Sorry, Ty, but I’m never going to call Jim that.”

“And his name’s brat, Tony.” Deon grinned at Ty. “Isn’t that right?”

Ty shrugged. “I’ve got a name for you, too, Deon. Do you want me to start using it?”

Deon cringed for a moment and then relaxed. He was with friends, and while Ty’s teasing could sometimes make him uncomfortable, it rarely went much further than that

Jim glared. “Brat, you promised.”

Ty glanced around. “Everyone here knows it apart from Tony, so I don’t see why I can’t use it when it’s just us.”

“Knows what?” Ryan asked, staring first at Ty, then Jim.

Jim ignored him. “Brat, the problem with using names is that it becomes a habit. Look at what you did on national TV even though thirty minutes earlier you’d said you wouldn’t.”

Ty scowled. “That was an accident!”

Jim smiled. “I know. But the idea is to avoid accidents if you can.”

Ryan frowned. “I’m missing something.”

Tony gave him a wry grin. “You and me, both.”

Deon rolled his eyes as he decided to let them know. “Ryan, do you remember what Jim said when you and Jim swapped mentoring roles?”

Ryan shrugged. “He’d take Ty, and I’d take you. So?”

Deon smiled. “Not quite. It more along the lines of: he’ll take the brat if you’ll take the baby.”

“And if I’m the brat that makes Deon...” Ty raised an eyebrow as he left the sentence unfinished.

Ryan’s eyes went wide, and he started to grin.

Jim leant forward. “And the brat has promised to not tell anyone.”

Ty tried to look innocent. “And I haven’t!”

Tony chuckled. “Deon has to be the biggest baby I’ve ever seen.”

Deon grinned, though he felt his face going red. He knew that nothing being said was done with malice.

Jim frowned. “Tony, please...”

Tony held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t say it again.”

Ty grinned and held up a hand for a high five. “But you used it, so join the club.”

While Tony slapped Ty’s hand, Jim stared at Deon. “I’m surprised you said anything. I didn’t think you would.”

Deon shrugged. “I’m trying to get less bothered by things like that and my bastard of a father. I don’t mind Tony knowing, and Ryan already knew, even if he’d forgotten. As for the brat, I know him well enough that he’ll never forget, and he’ll always looks for a chance to tell someone. It seems to make him happy.” Deon grinned at Ty. “Small things to amuse small minds, I suppose.”

Ty straightened his shoulders and sat back in his chair. “Hey, no telling secrets without permission!”

“Speaking of fathers, have you heard from yours recently, brat?” Ryan asked.

Ty shuddered. “No, happily, and I’d like it kept that way.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Is this something you can tell me?”

Jim caught Ty’s eye and received a nod in return. Jim turned back to Tony. “The brat’s father is...well.... Let’s just say he doesn’t know how to give praise. Criticisms, he’s great at. Letting someone know when they’ve achieved something...” Jim shook his head.

“He showed up here on Sunday. We threw him out.” Ty glanced at his plate and then at Jim. “What’s for dessert?”

Jim snorted. “There should still be some ice cream in the freezer. You can get it yourself. I only cooked the main meal; you’re on your own for sweets.”

Tony gave Deon a quizzical look. “What’s the story with your father, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Deon. He shrugged. “I don’t mind any more. I used to, but not now.” He smiled. “My bastard of a father left my mum when I was nine. He ran off to Sydney with another guy. I believe the two of them are still together though I haven’t spoken to him for years, and I haven’t seen him for even longer. He rings home for Christmas and birthdays, but I don’t take his calls anymore.”

Tony blinked, and his mouth dropped open. He glanced at Jim and then back at Deon.

Deon grinned. “Yeah, I know. I had a little bit of a problem initially because of my father being gay, but I’m over it. He’s out of my life, and I’ve moved on.”

Tony swallowed. “Can I...can I ask what’s your father’s first name?”

Deon frowned. “Sam. Why?”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tony jumped out of his chair and started to pace around the room, his hands on his head. “What the fuck do I do?”

Jim quickly joined him and pulled Tony into an embrace. “What’s wrong?”

Tony glanced at Deon and then dropped his head against Jim’s chest. There was a moment of silence before he looked up and grimaced. “Deon, there’s something I think you need to know.”

Jim let Tony go. Tony moved back to the table, but instead of sitting, he placed his hands on the back of his chair and looked down at Deon.

“One of the things Colin and I have been doing this week is going through the lists of people who have sent in donations. We’ve been contacting everyone who sent large amounts – by phone if we can or email if we can’t.

“On Friday night last week, we received a sizeable donation from a Sam Bradshaw: a direct deposit from a bank in Sydney. I sent him an email, thanking him and, like for all the other significant donors, offering him hospitality if he’s ever at one of the games. I never thought it would matter.

“I got a reply back today, saying that he and his partner will be coming down to Melbourne this coming weekend and they’ll be attending the game. He asked if he’d be able to meet the players afterwards. I told him yes and offered to pick him up from the airport on Friday night.”

Tony pulled a face. “I’m sorry, Deon. It may not be him, but I think your father’s coming to see you.”

* * *

It was one in the morning when Deon got out of bed. He’d been having trouble sleeping, with the news that Tony had told him running through his mind. He left his bedroom, intending to make himself a hot chocolate, when his nose wrinkled. There was a foul stench drifting down the hallway from the direction of the toilet. He could hear voices, and the light was on.

He walked down, wincing at the smell, and saw Tony bent over the toilet bowl. Jim was kneeling next to him, a hand across Tony’s bare back. The sound of dry-retching echoed back to Deon, followed soon afterwards by a loud fart and another waft of the foul odour he’d been smelling.

“What’s wrong?” Deon asked as he held his nose.

Jim looked up. “Tony’s sick. I thought dinner was gluten-free, but I must’ve made a mistake. This is apparently what happens when he eats gluten.” He turned back to Tony. “Sorry, mate.”

Tony waved a hand weakly. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t kill me.” He glanced up at Deon and gave him a wan smile. “Sorry about the smell. I can’t do anything about it.”

Deon frowned. “Are you going to be okay?”

Tony started to answer but then threw his face over the toilet bowl as he dry-retched again.

Jim grimaced. “He won’t be going to work tomorrow. He might not be well enough to drive, either, so he’ll have to stay here. Sorry, Deon.”

Deon shook his head to dismiss the apology. “I’ll get him a glass of water so he can rinse out his mouth. It might make him feel better.”

“Thanks, mate.” Jim turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “I’ll ring Colin in the morning to let him know you won’t be in.”

Tony waved a hand. “Wait until then. I should be better.”

Jim frowned. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Tony. If you’re not well, take the day off.”

Deon headed to the kitchen, leaving the two to discuss things in private. He was also grateful that he’s not a coeliac. Tony’s distress put his own concerns into perspective.

Deon realised that even if his father showed up, it would only be for a short time, and then he’d be gone. He could live with the small disruption in his life. Tony, on the other hand, had a lifetime ahead of him of trying to avoid eating gluten. For him, it was a never-ending task.