Leopard Spots

Chapter 3

Ty paced outside the train station, peering towards the car-park entrance several times a minute as he waited for Jim to pick him up. His original intention had to been walk home, but when he received the text message from Deon as to who was waiting for him, Ty decided he wanted to make sure he had backup.

Ty glanced up at the overcast sky, a reflection of how he was feeling about the unexpected reappearance of his old man. At least it wasn’t raining, and it didn’t look like it would. The day had been cool but not cold, and Ty crossed his fingers that that was an omen as to what would happen once he arrived home.

Planning wasn’t one of Ty’s strong points. He could follow a plan laid out by someone else, but most of the time he tended to act on instinct. Doing that with his father, however, was likely to make things worse. Ty needed Jim to be there to keep things from escalating.

Jim’s dark green Corolla pulled up just as Ty was starting a text, asking where he was. Putting his phone away, Ty clambered into the passenger seat. “Thanks for this.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Deon said that your father wants to pull you off the team. Is that right?” Jim glanced at Ty before returning his attention to getting out of the train-station car park.

“That’s what he texted me. I got the impression that he didn’t want me to call him back, so that’s about all I have. Oh, and Deon indicated that my old man’s homophobic, but that’s no real surprise.” Ty glared through the front windscreen at the mental image of the man who had done so many things wrong during Ty’s childhood.

“Why do you say that?” Jim asked as he pulled into the main street of Lilydale.

“I was, too, before Tony joined the club. Where do you think I picked that up from?”

Jim grunted. “So…how do you want to handle this?”

Ty snorted. “I was going to ask you the same question. I hope you’ve got a good answer, because otherwise I’m likely to put my old man in hospital. I’m not going to let him ruin my life any more than he already has.”

“In that case, maybe I should do most of the talking. The only problem is if your father thinks I’ve been some sort of evil influence on you, that’ll just reinforce that opinion.”

Ty grinned. “Since you have been, he’ll be getting the right impression.” Ty pursed his lips as he thought. “I’ll start, then, and tell him that I don’t want to talk to him and that I’m going to let you do the speaking, because otherwise I’d be punching his lights out.”

Jim glanced to the side. “Are you sure you can keep yourself under control?”

Ty jerked his head up and down. “Teamwork. It’s all about teamwork, Dad. You’ve got the lead on this, and my job is to support, not undercut you. I can do this.” His eyes went unfocused as he started to psych himself up. “I can do this!”

“Ty, if you—”

“The name’s ‘brat’. Ty is what my old man called me. My dad calls me brat.”

There was a long pause before Jim responded. “Okay, brat, but calling me ‘Dad’ in front of your father isn’t going to help. If you don’t think you can keep your mouth shut, you should probably leave the room.”

“Leaving the room is probably a good idea, but I’m not going to stop calling you ‘Dad’. Hell, I called you that on national TV, so it’s not like it’ll be any real surprise to him.” Ty clenched his fists. “When I think of what he’s done…”

“Settle down, Ty—”

“It’s brat!”

“Enough!” Jim pulled over to the side of the road. “I’m here to help you, not fight with you. If you really want to be a brat, you can get out now and walk home. If you want me to help, then work with me, not against me.”

Ty blinked and forced his hands to unclench. “I’ll be good, Dad. I promise, but I need you there. If you’re not…I’ll probably do something stupid.” Ty paused. “Something more stupid than normal, at least.”

Jim let out a single bark of laughter. “Okay, brat, we’ll do this together. Let’s go face the music.”

A minute later, they had turned into Tenterfield Street and were approaching their house.

“Shit! I’d forgotten about the photographers. They’re still here.” Jim scowled.

“What’s the problem? They take a few pictures, we ignore them, and we go inside to deal with my old man.”

“Ty…brat…one of the problems your father has is probably thinking I’m a bad influence on you. If he keeps seeing photographs of the two of us together, that’s not going to help.”

Ty shrugged. “His problem. I don’t mind them taking my photo, and I certainly don’t mind being photographed next to you. It just makes me look even better.”

Jim stared for a moment and then chuckled. “Alright, brat. Let’s get this done.” He parked the car in the driveway, and the two of them got out. Jim held up a hand close to his eyes in response to camera flashes but then smiled and waved.

Ty was waiting at the front door when Jim arrived. “Finished your photo shoot, Dad?”

Jim grinned. “Brat.”

Ty took a deep breath before opening the door. Stepping through, he headed for the lounge-room on the assumption that that’ll be where his old man would be sitting. He knew he was still at the house because his car was one of those parked outside.

“G’day, sir. How’s Mum?” Ty asked as soon as entered the room. A quick scan showed Ryan sitting nearby, but Deon wasn’t in sight.

Mr. Flanders levered himself out of the chair. “About bloody time. You’d know if you ever put in the effort to call home once in a while. You’re still selfish and never thinking about anyone except yourself.”

Ty scowled and crossed his arms. “That used to be true, but I’ve learnt a lot since I’ve moved out of home. And that’s all thanks to this guy.” Jim had stepped up next to Ty as he spoke, and Ty finished his comment by putting an arm across Jim’s shoulders.

Mr. Flanders’s face went red. He stepped forward. “Get away from him!”

Ty dropped his arm and moved between Jim and his father. “Why? Because he’s a better dad than you ever were? Are you jealous?”

“Brat, enough! Sit down and shut up.”

Ty glanced over his shoulder and winced at the sight of Jim’s glare. “Sorry, Dad.”

Mr. Flanders grabbed Ty’s upper arm as Ty started to sit down. “Get your things; I’m taking you home.”

“No!” Ty shook off his old man’s hand while scowling. He had a new ‘Dad’, and he wasn’t going back to the old one.

Ty saw the arm swinging, but was too surprised to react. His old man’s hand slapped him hard across the face. “Never speak to me like that again!”

Ty was about to respond in kind when his arm was grabbed from behind. Moments later, Ryan added his strength to Jim’s and pulled Ty away.

Jim pushed Ty towards the chair in the corner, the one furthest from the rest. “Brat, sit!”

Ty dropped into the seat and scowled. His old man knew all the buttons needed to get Ty to react, and he had been doing so from the moment Ty had entered the room.

“Mr. Flanders, I—”

“I have no interest in talking to you. I’m here to take my son away from this den of iniquity and the bad influences that abide here.”

Ty bit his lip. He knew where the bad influences were, and they didn’t live in this house. He didn’t know where Deon was, but Ryan had positioned himself between Ty and his old man and was clearly ready to intervene in either direction.

“Mr. Flanders…”

“Ty, go to your room and get your things. We’re leaving as soon as you’re packed.”

Ty didn’t move. It took almost all his willpower to stay silent.

“Mr. Flanders…”

“What are you waiting for, Ty?” Mr. Flanders waved a hand dismissively. “Go!”

Deon chose that moment to step into the room. He was carrying four bottles of beer. “Drinks anyone?”

Ty held out his hand. “I’ll have one. Thanks, Deon.”

“I’ll have one, too,” Ryan said.

Ty’s father scowled. “This is what I’m talking about. If you want to be an elite athlete, you need dedication. You weren’t training today — I know because I went to the club first, expecting you to be there — and now you’re drinking excessive calories and ruining what little fitness you might’ve had. I’ve got half a mind to—”

“Mr. Flanders…”

Jim’s harsh tone seemed to get through.

“I told you I have no interest in talking to you. I’m here to save my son, and that’s all. I will not have him cavorting with homosexuals.”

“In that case I’ll do the talking, and you can do the listening.”

“Now, see here—”

“You have a wonderful son, Mr. Flanders. He’s one of the most talented football players I’ve ever seen and one of the most dedicated. This is his first day off for three weeks. That’s right; he’s been training or playing seven days a week. He would’ve put in time today, too, if our coach hadn’t told him to take a break.”

“I’m glad to see that all my influence hasn’t been completely wasted, but if he’s to achieve—”

“I haven’t finished.” Jim took a pace towards the older man, who immediately took a half-step back. “Ty missed out in the AFL draft last year, but he’s on track to be a real contender this year. To do that means he has to keep playing VFL. He wants to play for the Leopards, and we’re more than happy to have him. We—”

Mr. Flanders scowled. “And that’s completely unacceptable. You will not ‘have him’ if I have any say in the matter. I will not stand by and watch him become corrupted. If he’s to reach the AFL, he needs a stern hand and doesn’t need to be turned into another limp-wristed poofter!”

Ty jumped up, dropping the beer in his hand in the process. “Yes, you fucking hypocrite, I need a stern hand, and that’s what Dad’s been giving me. He’s taught me more about teamwork and what I need to reach the AFL than you ever did! He has never molested me, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate, and I know him well enough to know he never will.”

Ryan moved forward. Ty narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to tell him to get out of the way. Ryan looked past Ty and then stepped back. Ty glanced at Jim to see if he was going to intervene, but when there was no immediate reaction, Ty turned his glare back to his father. Mr. Flanders seemed startled, eyeing Ty warily.

“You might’ve given me my goal of reaching the AFL, but you proved last year that you can’t get me there. I believe the Leopards can, and Dad, in particular, is doing all he can to help me. I will not give up on my dream, and that means I’m staying put. If you’ve got a problem with that, then you can fuck off.”

“Brat…” Jim almost growled the word.

Ty turned to face him. “No, this is my fight. Am I my own person, or am I a puppet being directed by you and my old man? I say I’m me, and I’m making a stand. When I leave the Leopards, it’ll be because I want to, not because I’m told to. While I’m learning, I’m staying, and I’ve come to realise there’s still a hell of a lot I’ve got to learn.” Ty jabbed a finger in Jim’s direction. “You’re not going to get rid of me, Dad. I’m not moving.”

This time, Ty caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He had been expecting it and grabbed his father’s arm as it swung towards him. “I know what this is really about. You abandoned me here almost four months ago, and you’re only back because you think you can use me to make yourself look good or because you don’t want your so-called friends sneering at you because your son is friends with a homosexual. I’m not sure which — or maybe it’s both. But bad news, father; unless you leave now, there’s a bunch of photographers outside who are going to see you being thrown out of this house by your own son. You’ll be on the front page of all the newspapers as the loser you are.”

Ty pushed his old man’s arm away and pointed to the front door. “Go.”

Mr. Flanders scowled as he brushed his clothes. “Clearly, I’m too late. Very well, son, if that’s the way you want it, I’m going to have nothing more to do with you. You can fail on your own, just like you always have.”

Ty watched as his old man left the house. It was only when he heard the noise of the door closing, than he relaxed. He gave Jim a wry smile. “Sorry, Dad. I think I went a little overboard.”

Jim stared for a moment before his lips started to twitch into a smile. “A little. The beer on the carpet was overkill, and you need to clean that up.”

Ty glanced at the bottle he’d dropped in his rage. “Shit!”

Jim laughed and gave Ty a slap on the back. “You did well, brat. You could’ve done better, but overall: no real complaints.”

Ty’s smile disappeared at the sound of a knock from the front door. “If that bastard is back…”

Deon moved first. “I’ll get it!” He opened the door and then stepped back. “Come in, Roger.”

Roger McDowell scanned the room, his gaze hesitating on the beer spill before ending up on Ty. “Deon called me, saying it was an emergency. What’s happened?”

Ty raised an eyebrow at Deon and smiled his thanks before turning back to his captain. “It’s okay. My old man was here, but he’s gone now. Hopefully, he won’t be back.”

Roger stared for a moment and then nodded. “In that case, I should head back home.”

“Would you like a beer before you go? I’ve got to get another one for myself, anyway,” Ty said.

“After you’ve cleaned up the mess.” Jim’s dry tone was at odds with the small smile.

Ty rolled his eyes. “…after I’ve cleaned up the mess.” He grinned at Roger. “Well?”

Roger smiled. “Okay, brat. While you do that, someone can fill me in on what the dramas were and why Deon told me to drop everything and get over here ASAP.”

Ty headed to the kitchen but paused in the doorway. “Before that, I’ve got a question, Dad. It’s something my old man said.”

Jim frowned. “What is it, Ty?”

“I know roughly, but what exactly is cavorting? It sounds a little kinky, especially if I’m supposed to be doing it with you.” Ty grinned.

It was Jim’s turn to roll his eyes. “Brat.”

* * *

Over at the Lowfield Place house, Owen rejoined Charlie and Jarrod in the lounge-room. “He’s asleep. Given the amount he drank, I don’t think he’ll be getting up any time soon.”

Jarrod gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Are we all agreed that there’s something seriously wrong with Dave?” He waited for Charlie and Owen to indicate their agreement before continuing. “What can we do about it?”

Owen grimaced. “I don’t know how much we can do? If he won’t see a doctor, we can’t make him.”

“We may be able to force him.” Charlie glanced at the other two guys. “If we told Peter, he could make Dave do it or risk his place in the team.”

Owen pulled a face. “I’m afraid that the way he is at the moment, Dave might quit rather than get help. I no longer know what he’s going to do. It’s like he’s switching from being depressed to being a maniac, and you never know which one he’s going to be.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Jarrod shook his head. “I can’t believe he physically attacked me simply because I expressed some concern.”

“We can’t even stop him from drinking; he can buy his own grog without us being able to do a thing to prevent him,” Charlie said.

“So…what do we do?” Owen asked.

Charlie glanced at the other two guys. “Can we agree that we have to do something?”

“Yeah, but what?” Jarrod asked.

“Do we all accept that Dave’s health is more important to us than the team?” Charlie continued.

Owen and Jarrod exchanged looks and then both nodded. “Yes.”

“Then we have to tell Peter. I’d prefer Dave to be kicked off the team but stay alive than to see him kill himself because we didn’t do anything.” Charlie paused. “Come on, guys. Doing nothing isn’t going to help. If putting Dave on the spot doesn’t work, we’re no worse off than we are right now, and there’s the chance it’ll shake him out of whatever is wrong. Unless one of you has a better idea, I don’t think we have a choice. Not if we consider Dave our friend.”

Owen nodded his head, his expression one of determination. “I’ll call Peter now to let him know.”

Jarrod grimaced. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like what we’re doing.” He sighed and stared in the direction of Dave’s bedroom. “He needs help, and we’ve got to do what we can to get it to him.”

* * *

The next morning, despite a throbbing headache, Dave smiled. As he had hoped, getting drunk meant a solid night’s sleep — without dreams or nightmares.

Rolling himself out of bed, he grimaced before staggering to his feet. While it had worked, the after effects of drinking himself into a stupor were debilitating. He made a decision to make an appointment to see Andrew, the club’s doctor, sometime that day so he could get a prescription for some sleeping pills that weren’t on the Australian Sports Anti-Doping Authority’s banned list. That had been the major reason he hadn’t tried to get some medication the day before; most chemists wouldn’t know what’s prohibited by ASADA. He couldn’t take the risk of getting a doping violation.

Dave grunted and headed to the bathroom. He always needed a caffeine fix in the morning, but after drinking about half a bottle of Jack Daniels the night before, he needed a long hot shower first. Then, it would be time to get ready for work.

It wasn’t going to be fun working with a hangover, but it was still better than having a repeat of that nightmare.

* * *

Neil hesitated before entering the school gate. He never knew if his nemesis, Doug Harding, would be around. Doug had been a permanent pain in Neil’s life since he started secondary school. It was now the sixth year of torment from the larger youth.

The nature of abuse had varied over time. When they had both just become teenagers, the abuse was mainly physical. Neil’s father’s advice of ‘man up’ hadn’t been particularly useful, and it was only when Neil summoned enough courage to speak to his favourite teacher halfway through Year 8 that anything concrete had occurred.

Doug had been forced to give Neil an apology and to promise that it wouldn’t happen again. It hadn’t, at least to the same degree. Instead, Doug found other ways to make Neil’s life uncomfortable. There was still some roughhousing, but Doug seemed to know how to keep it just below the level where he would get into trouble.

Name-calling had been constant, but the real damage had been done surreptitiously. Doug had made it known that no one was to become friends with Neil and had taken steps to make sure no one did. Early friendships died quickly after Doug had a ‘talk’ with an impending acquaintance.

“Neil, my old buddy. How’s things?”

Neil felt the heavy weight of Doug’s arm across his shoulders. Doug had been waiting around the corner of the building, and Neil hadn’t had enough notice to avoid him.

Doug used his free hand to give Neil a sharp jab in the ribs. “Come on, Four-Dork. There’s no need to be silent. How about a smile for your best friend?”

“Leave me alone,” Neil muttered. He no longer reacted to the nickname Doug had given him in Year 8 when, for a short period of time, Neil had worn glasses instead of contact lenses. Doug had taken to calling him Four-eyed Dork, later shortened to Four-Dork. The name had stuck, with over half the population in the school using the nickname rather than Neil’s real name.

“I know what’s going on! You’ve got a present for me in your bag, and you want to keep it as a surprise.” Doug grabbed the straps of Neil’s backpack and yanked it off Neil’s shoulders. “Well, I hate surprises, so let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Give it back!” Neil panicked. He had homework that was due that day, and he was afraid that Doug would ruin it, just for fun.

“Now, now. That’s no way to talk to your best friend, Four-Dork.” Doug sneered. “Make that your only friend. If I didn’t show an interest in you, you’d have no one. You should be grateful.”

Neil scowled as Doug knelt down and opened the backpack. Doug was physically too big and strong for him to contest possession.

“Let’s see what’s in here.” Doug looked up from the open bag with an expression of mock horror. “Don’t tell me your mumsie still makes lunches for her little Neilsie? We can’t have that.” Doug opened Neil’s lunch container and pulled out the sandwich. “Tsk. Tsk. You can do better than this. Come see me at lunchtime and I’ll give you something much tastier and nutritious to eat.” Doug turned and tossed the sandwich into a nearby bin.

Neil took advantage of the momentary distraction to grab his backpack and run. He knew from past experience that his lunch container would end up in the lost-property box, and this way the rest of his gear was safe. Losing his mum’s packed lunch was a small price to pay. Neil had a few dollars on him to buy some food — an insurance policy he’d maintained for years, as that morning wasn’t the first time Doug had taken his lunch.

Neil didn’t know why Doug had chosen him to pick on or why he had continued to do so for so many years. It no longer mattered to Neil. Doug was just another thing to endure until he finished school and could move away.

At least Doug didn’t know that Neil was gay. Neil didn’t want to think about how he’d be treated if that little snippet of information ever got out.

* * *

Dave frowned at the text message. He’d had his phone on silent while he worked and saw the SMS from Peter when he checked his phone at lunchtime. Wondering what the problem was, he rang his coach.

“Peter Stevenson.”

“G’day, Peter. It’s Dave.”

“Dave! Just the person I wanted to talk to. Would you be free to come in early to training this afternoon? I’d like to have a chat with you about a few things.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment immediately after work. What about tomorrow?”

“A doctor’s appointment? What’s wrong?”

Dave grimaced as he thought furiously about how much to say. “Nothing serious. I’ve been having some trouble sleeping recently, and it’s been making me cranky. I’ve decided to ask Andrew for a prescription for sleeping pills. He knows to make sure whatever I get will be ASADA approved.”

“Okay, well that’s more important than anything I had to discuss with you. Why don’t you drop in to see me tomorrow sometime? I’ll be in my office for most of the morning.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll come in before I do my gym routine. Say, about nine?”

“I’ll see you then. Thanks, Dave.”

Dave frowned as he hung up. Peter hadn’t told him what it was that he wanted to talk about, and Dave couldn’t help wonder what it could be.

The conversation had reminded Dave of another call he needed to make. He had squeezed in a call to the doctor’s surgery earlier that day, but he hadn’t had the time to arrange the follow-up.

“G’day, Dave. What’s up?” Jarrod sounded cheerful but curious.

“Can you take the guys to training tonight?” Dave asked. Jarrod was the only real choice. Charlie didn’t own a vehicle, and Owen’s small car wouldn’t cope well with more than two people.

“Sure, but why? You’ve got the biggest car.”

“I’ve got something else on, and I’ll be going straight from there to training. I won’t be home in time to pick you guys up.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. If you’ve got other things to do, is there any way I can help?”

Dave had to stop himself from yelling. He glanced around to make sure there was no one in earshot before he growled the answer. “What you can do to help, Jarrod, is to mind your own fucking business! I’ll see you at training.” He hung up before Jarrod could respond.

Dave knew that his teammates were only concerned, but he didn’t want them prying into his personal life. They needed to learn to keep their noses out of things that weren’t their responsibility.

* * *

“Fuck!” Neil scowled as he peered around the corner of the building. It wasn’t unexpected, but he’d had hopes. Unfortunately, Doug and two of his cronies, Liam Bellweather and Rod Freeman, were hanging around outside the school cafeteria. There was no way Neil could approach to buy some lunch without being seen.

“If you just stood up to them, they wouldn’t pick on you all the time.”

Neil spun around and glared at the young woman, a classmate whom he knew by sight but otherwise was essentially a stranger. “What the fuck do you know, Clarissa? I’ve tried that, and it only made things worse.”

The petite brunette crossed her arms. “And when, exactly, did you try that?”

“Back in Year 8. All that happened was they backed off on the physical abuse and shifted to ruining my life. In hindsight, I would’ve preferred being bashed every couple of days.”

Clarissa Hargraves stared, eyes narrowed, for a couple of seconds without speaking. She then sighed. “What did you want to buy?”

“Why do you care? The only reason anyone talks to me is to put me down or to play a prank on me!”

She glared. “Because, maybe, I was feeling a little sorry for you! You’ve got no friends, and you keep being picked on by that jerk and his gang. I saw what Doug did this morning, and I guessed he’s over there to make sure you don’t get anything to eat. Obviously, however, you like being the victim, and you don’t want any help, so I’m off.”

Neil blinked as she turned and stepped away. Recovering from his shock, he ran after her and grabbed her arm. “Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She stared down at his hand on her arm and then back at his face. He quickly let go.

“Do you want my help?” Clarissa asked, her expression still stony.

“Please…”

She sighed and put out her hand. “What do you want?”

Neil pulled out a ten-dollar note and gave it to her. “Anything, really. Sandwiches, meat pies, pasties, sausage rolls…whatever you get will be fine.”

She frowned. “I’ll be back soon.”

Neil watched as she headed away. He didn’t know why she was risking Doug’s ire by helping him, but he wasn’t going to complain. He could’ve survived without lunch — it wouldn’t have been the first time — but he preferred to eat.

He followed her to the corner so he could watch what she was doing and waited anxiously. He was concerned that it was some sort of complex joke, a variation on something Doug had done previously. One of Doug’s harassment tactics, if Neil tried to buy some lunch, was to make a big show of buying it for him but then escorting him elsewhere to eat. It was once they were away that the victimisation would occur, such as the time in Year 10 that Doug had decided that Neil’s sandwiches should contain sand.

Neil gnawed at his lower lip while he worried that Doug had coerced Clarissa into offering to buy lunch for Neil, only to have Doug sabotage the food to make it inedible.

Neil stiffened when Liam stopped Clarissa. He couldn’t hear what they said, but it was clear from the body language that Clarissa wasn’t happy. Liam seemed upset about something, but when he put a hand on Clarissa’s arm, she shook it off and slapped him.

It was only then that Neil recalled hearing a rumour that Liam and Clarissa had been dating. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the social interactions of his peer group, which is why he hadn’t remembered it previously. From what he could see, Neil guessed that they’d split up, and Clarissa helping him was some sort of payback aimed at Liam.

Neil relaxed as he kept a cautious eye on what was going on. Clarissa stormed off, returning a few minutes later carrying a brown paper bag. She paused momentarily to glare at Liam before heading away. Neil froze when he realised that she wasn’t coming towards him, but then nodded to himself as he worked out that she was going to circle the building to reach him. Given the way Liam watched her walk away, Neil approved. If she’d headed directly to him, Liam would’ve spotted him and informed Doug.

He headed around the back of the building, meeting Clarissa halfway.

“I got you two sausage rolls, a cheese sandwich, and an apple. I hope that’s good enough.” Clarissa shoved the bag at Neil who snatched it before she could let go.

“Thank you. Thank you so very much.” Neil smiled, hoping his expression would convey his appreciation.

She scowled. “I’m not doing it because I like you. Now piss off and eat it somewhere else. I’ve got things to do.”

Neil’s smile faded as she walked away. It was as he had thought: she was doing it as payback against Liam, not because she felt sorry for him.

* * *

Anne Flintlock entered Tony’s office to find the young man lightly banging his head on the desk.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Tony looked up and rolled his eyes. “Colin, my wonderful and esteemed boss, has decided that since almost all of the emails coming in at the moment on the club’s marketing email address are regarding Jim, they would all be forwarded to my account for me to process. Any that aren’t about Jim get sent to Colin, and I have to deal with the rest.”

Anne wasn’t successful at suppressing a snigger. “I take it there’s a lot.”

Tony shrugged and waved a hand at his visitor’s chair.  “Have a seat. There’s not that many. The problem is working out what to do with them. It doesn’t feel right for me to make the decisions, so I have to summarise them, with recommendations, for Jim to review when he gets a chance.”

Tony glared at his computer screen as Anne sat down. “So far, I’ve got emails from seven different magazines asking for interviews, photo shoots, or both. Two of them are offering substantial sums for exclusive access, while the rest are offering small to reasonable amounts. I’m going to have to talk to Jim, but will he really want to appear in The Australian Women’s Weekly?”

“If his mum reads it, he might do it to give her bragging rights.” Anne frowned. “They’d have to move quick if they want him to be in next month’s issue — it’s the 24th today, and they’ll need to put it into print and then distribute it.”

“They know it’s too late for the April issue. They’re aiming for May. Jim might be interested in being in Men’s Health, but the others…” Tony shook his head.

Anne smirked. “Is one of the seven Cleo, asking if Jim will be a centerfold?”

Tony winced. “Yeah, and that’s not the only questionable one. One of our local gay magazines includes some rather nice artistic nude photos, and guess who sent us an email asking if Jim could appear in a future edition.”

Anne laughed. “Why am I not surprised you know about that? Don’t tell me: you only read it for the articles.”

Tony grinned. “The articles are good, too. However, that’s one I’m having trouble making a recommendation on. A major gay sportsman is something that could do a lot of good for some teenager somewhere, so I’d like Jim to be in it, but I’m not sure nude photos would be a good idea.”

Anne smirked. “Jim’s got some tough decisions to make. I’m sure they’ll accept non-nudes as well.” She cocked her head as her expression went serious. “The ones willing to pay for an exclusive — what’s your gut feeling?”

Tony grimaced. “I think he’ll turn them down. He doesn’t want to be a commercial object, and that’s what’ll happen if he accepts. He’ll probably reject the advertising deals, too, at least for now. I’m going to suggest he not make any commitments for at least a month. After that, maybe some advertising endorsements if they’re not tacky.”

Anne nodded. “I agree. Unless he wants the money, he should take his time. If he needs legal advice on any contracts, let me know and I’ll have the club’s lawyer take a look at them. It’s the least we can do after what he’s done.”

Tony was momentarily speechless before he smiled and nodded his thanks. “That’s very generous. However, he might surprise both of us and accept some of these because his focus is still on the Leopards. He called me earlier in a panic because somehow word had gotten out about where he works. O’Grady’s Sports has been inundated with the curious, plus a few reporters and photographers. Jim was going crazy until his boss sent him out the back to relax. That’s when the two of them hatched up another scheme to make more money for the club.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “How? By the way, I came down here to let you know that we’re over the $75,000 mark. The rate of money coming in has slowed a lot, but we’re going to make our minimum target. If Jim can get us more, that’s great, but he’s already performed a miracle, and I can’t ask for anything else from him.”

“I know, but this one won’t earn much. It’s the principle that makes me think he’ll accept a few offers so he can pass the money on to the club.”

“What’s he doing?”

Tony grinned. “Signing footballs. They’ve putting a five-dollar markup on them, and the club gets five dollars for each one sold. He’s only signing fifty, so that’s a maximum of $250, but the fact that he’s doing it when I know he hates the attention makes me think he’ll take one or two of these offers and then pass the money to the club.”

Anne frowned. “You’re going to have to keep him under control, Tony. It’ll be real easy for him to get in too deep with deals and lose his football focus. We both know that’s what he lives for.”

Tony nodded, his expression serious. “I know. So far he’s indicated he’ll be guided by me, but we’re going to have to vet anything he’s interested in very carefully. Some things could turn around and bite him in the future.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “Like the nude-photo request?”

Tony shrugged. “Possibly. I’m still getting to know him, but I don’t think he’s as self-confident as he appears. From his reaction to the crowds at the store, I think he’s in danger of drowning from too much attention.”

Anne nodded. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a very private person. I now know why, but he’s not going to lose that habit overnight.”

* * *

Mrs. Rosewood glanced up as Neil came through the back door. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

“The usual.” Neil paused to peer over the kitchen bench to where his mother was working. “What’s for dinner?”

“The usual.” She grinned before returning her attention to what she was doing. “Chilli-lime chicken if I get enough time to marinate it properly. Otherwise, that’ll be tomorrow night’s dinner and we’ll have pasta tonight.”

“Okay.” Neil put down his backpack and pulled out his lunchbox and placed it on the bench. As he had expected, it had been in the lost-property box at school.

“In the dishwasher,” his mother said without looking up.

Neil rolled his eyes and then did as he was told.

“Do you need anything for your homework?” she asked.

“No, Mum. I’ve got everything.” Neil picked up his bag and headed towards his bedroom.

“Don’t forget: you need to get good marks if you’re going to get into uni next year,” she called out to his retreating back.

Neil raised a hand to acknowledge that he’d heard her. She repeated something similar at least a couple of times a week, which drove Neil mad.

Closing his bedroom door, he tossed his bag onto his bed and fired up his old and clunky laptop. He was still trying to convince his parents to upgrade it to a new model, but as it was still usable, if incredibly slow to start, they weren’t listening. While it booted, he sorted out the work he’d be doing that day. He had two hours of work to do, then a short break before dinner. After dinner, his parents would expect him to put in at least another hour or two on homework, though that was usually after watching some television. His current problem was how to make sure his father left the TV on channel 10 so he could watch Jim on The Project.

He was working on an excuse about needing to watch the show for one of his subjects, but he was having trouble coming up with a plausible reason why. His parents weren’t stupid; they’d wonder why watching television was suddenly a requirement when it hadn’t been for the previous two months. With the first term finishing in a couple of weeks, it would seem an odd time to introduce a new type of homework.

Neil entered his password and then returned to organising his books. Since he was the only one who used the laptop, he originally hadn’t had a password. That had changed two years earlier when he had started to download and store gay porn. He couldn’t take the risk that his parents would snoop and find it. They had never invaded his privacy before, but it would only take one time to ruin his life.

Once his laptop was finally running, he sat down to start his homework. Before he did so, he navigated to the folder he had created on the weekend. Bringing up his new favourite picture, he stared for a moment. Slowly, he brought up his hand and placed it gently over the image that he’d downloaded from one of the newspaper websites: Jim evading his Collingwood opponent. He left Jim’s face visible while he imagined his hand caressing Jim’s body.

He had always known he had to bear with his parents for one more year before he would be able to live his own life. What happened after that had been a vague blur, with merely the wish that it would be better than what had gone before.

Finally, Neil could see hope. He could see a promise of something better. He now had a firm goal to aim for. That goal was already helping him endure. He wanted Jim, and he knew in his heart that Jim would save him — that Jim would give him a life worth living.

Neil lowered his hand, but it was another minute before he closed the picture and started his homework. His dream wasn’t reality — yet.

* * *

Roger knocked on the door to his coach’s office. “Peter, are you free?”

Peter glanced up and beckoned the team’s captain in. “Sure. What is it you want?”

Roger closed the door, causing Peter’s eyebrows to rise. The fact that Roger has come to see him after training had finished was enough to make Peter curious. Turning it into a private chat raised it to the level of being serious.

“It’s about Dave…”

Peter grimaced. “You’re not the first person to speak to me about him.” He waved a hand at the seat on the other side of his desk. “What’s your concern?”

Roger frowned. “Who else has spoken to you?”

“Not important, at this stage. I want to hear your thoughts before I say anything more.” Peter leant back in his chair as he concentrated all of his attention on Roger.

“Dave’s been…erratic…for the last few weeks. He’s much more aggressive than he used to be, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I don’t know if that aggression is being properly directed. I’m getting worried that he’s losing control and is starting to lash out at his teammates.”

Peter nodded. “Will and Julie expressed the same concern immediately after training tonight.”

“Then there’s the fact that he showed up late and left immediately afterwards, not even stopping to have a shower.”

“Dave rang me at lunchtime to tell me he had a doctor’s appointment after work. I wasn’t surprised that he was late; Andrew’s not the best at keeping his appointments on time.” Peter frowned. “I don’t see what the shower, or lack thereof, has to do with anything.”

Roger sighed as he dropped his head. “It might not, but I’ve got my suspicions it might be related.” He looked up. “Did Dave say why he was going to see Andrew?”

Peter thought for a moment, but he felt Roger, as captain, had a right to know. He also knew that Roger could be trusted to be discreet. “Dave’s been having trouble sleeping, which might explain his behaviour. He was going to Andrew to get a prescription for some sleeping tablets. If that’s the problem, things should start picking up again almost immediately.”

Roger pulled a face. “That might be hiding the problem, not solving it. Did Dave say when he started having problems sleeping?”

Peter shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Because Dave has been leaving the showers as soon as Jim shows up. I’m going to guess that his problems with sleeping started when Tony joined the club.”

Peter grunted. “You think he’s homophobic? I don’t believe it; he’s been openly supportive of Jim and doesn’t seem to have any problems with Tony, either.”

“I know, and that’s what’s got me beat, too.” Roger shrugged. “But the timing fits. I confronted him on Saturday after the game, and he told me that he can’t shower with Jim. No explanation as to why — just the statement that he can’t do it.” Roger made eye contact with Peter. “He also got violent. Just for a moment, but it was enough for me to be worried that there’s something wrong.”

Peter drummed his fingers on the desk, and his eyes became unfocused. “Andrew can’t tell me anything about what Dave said to him this afternoon, but that doesn’t stop me from passing on to him what you’ve said. That puts it into Andrew’s court, as the medical expert, to determine if there’s a problem that needs fixing.” He returned his gaze to Roger. “Just for your information, his housemates have also expressed concern. They’re worried about his mental health. That’s you, the other two coaches, Owen, Jarrod, and Charlie, all worried about similar things.”

Roger grimaced. “Ty’s also bothered, but that’s because he thinks Dave is snubbing Jim. I told him to leave Dave to me.”

Peter gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “I’ve asked Dave to drop in to see me tomorrow morning. I’ll talk to him and see if I can get some more information as to what’s going on. I won’t mention any names, but he’s not stupid. If you’ve already confronted him, he’ll know that you’ve also spoken to me.”

Roger shrugged. “I can live with that. You can even tell him that I spoke to you; I don’t see that it’ll do any harm, especially if he’s likely to work it out himself.”

“Okay, then. We wait and see how he is tomorrow morning after, hopefully, a good night’s sleep, and then we’ll work out the next step.”

Roger stood up and smiled. “Thanks, Peter. I wasn’t sure if I was going paranoid, so I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one. Now it’s time I got back to the club room and join the others for a beer.”

Peter snorted. “You expect me to believe you’ll stop at one?”

Roger grinned. “Maybe two.”

* * *

Neil smiled as he prepared for bed. He sent a silent thank you to the person who had posted the name of the store where Jim worked on Twitter using the #gayleopard hashtag. Neil now knew not only Jim’s home address but his work address, too. He hadn’t been able to track down a phone number or email address, but he was sure it would only be a matter of time.

Neil hadn’t located a Facebook or Twitter account for Jim, but he’d found both for Ty Flanders and was keeping an eye on them to see if they would give clues as to Jim’s location. Neither was particularly active, but it was possible that that could change.

It wasn’t long until the term-one school holidays started, and Neil would be able to invest almost two weeks of time in becoming Jim’s boyfriend.

Disclaimer: Some public figures have been included in this story for effect. This is fiction, and the words and actions of those characters are mine and not those of the real person. All other individuals depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.

I would like to thank trebs, C James and MikeL for the advice they gave on early versions and rec for editing this story for me. A special thank you to ricky for that crucial final review before publication.

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