PRIME TIME
HAMMER
Our Round 19 away game in Melbourne starts as a shitshow and ends even worse.
I’m pissed off from the start. While us boys are waiting for our flight on Thursday, Tessa comes over with one of them combination padlocks.
‘A fun video for social,’ she says. ‘Can you boys guess the four-letter combination?’
We try a bunch of words –BALL, cos of footy,PIES, cos we’re flying to Melbs to face Collingwood, andWESTfor West Coast Eagles, but nothing works. I even tryKADEandHAMRwhen nobody’s watching, but then I realise Tessa’s phone camera is still on me and I look like a self-absorbed dick.
I look even worse when Sniper cracks the padlock with the wordOSHY.
‘That’s right!’ Tessa beams. ‘It’s Oshy’s first game at the MCG. What a moment!’
Sniper musses Oshy’s hair. Oshy’s grinning as if he’s hell humble when we all know he’s got tickets on himself. Wonder how his face would look if I was standing on top of his kneecap, telling him I’d break his leg if he didn’t suck my cock. My dick twitches. Shit.Stop it, MC Hammer.
Then, we fly to Melbs and get annihilated by an in-form Collingwood side. There’s no footy club more obnoxious thanthe Magpies. They think they’re hot shit and the loud, long COLLLLLLLINGWOOOOOOOD chant goes around the MCG even when they’re losing. Their young full-back is a tough bastard and manages to stick to me like glue. Oshy ends up getting the crumbs of every major contest and slots four goals: his best game of the season. I get one goal and one behind.
It’s a humiliation. We lose by forty-two points.
‘You’re lucky nobody screenshotted it, babes,’ Richelle informs me over cocktails at a swanky laneway bar in the heart of Melbourne. ‘Saying what you said on Insta can be career-ending these days.’
She sips at her drink, a ‘virgin espresso martini’ that cost twenty-one dollars. But if it’s a virgin espresso martini, isn’t it just a ridiculously overpriced cold espresso?
I’m drinking an old-fashioned. Richelle insisted on cocktails and I chose the most normal one. It’s as blokey as a cocktail can look: orangey-brown, like liquid rust, with a big orange slice like they used to give us at footy training.
‘I took it down, no biggie.’ I shrug.
Richelle raises a shaped eyebrow and tucks her dead-straight blonde hair behind her ear, revealing a little pink gem piercing at the top.
‘It’s a different world now,’ she says. ‘Trust me, babes, I’m chronically on TikTok. One little drop of water can spiral into a tsunami these days.’ She sips her twenty-dollar espresso. ‘Speaking of TikTok, did you see I met The Veronicas?’
I reach for my old-fashioned. ‘Yeah, yeah. That’s pretty awesome.’
Richelle shoves her bejewelled phone in my face and starts playing me videos of her and the two female singers. ‘Oh my God, they were so nice! And they were literally long-time fans of my posts. And they follow me back now! They were the ones whoasked for a selfie with me, I swear! I was like, Nooooo,youguys are therealfamous ones!’
She laughs, looking for me to join in, and I dog her.
‘Yeah, good on ya,’ I say shortly.
Richelle pauses the current TikTok video and rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, I forgot, it’s all about Hammer,’ she says drily. ‘You can’t handle anyone getting more attention than you. My counsellor says that’s why we didn’t work. I was getting recognised in the street, and you couldn’t stand being the less-famous person in a couple. That would’ve been your worst nightmare.’
I clunk my glass onto the table harder than I mean to. Those last three words ring in my ears. ‘Why did you say that? “Your worst nightmare”?’ I demand.
Richelle squints. ‘Uh, cos it’s true, babes?’
I stare at her. Richelle was at Amber’s house party the night I kissed Zeke. Did she see us sneak off into the bushes? Does she know? Did she send the DM?
I don’t provoke her further. If she’s not admitting to sending the DM now, she won’t.
‘You have a bye next week – are you staying in Melbs to make a holiday of it?’ Richelle asks breezily.
My jaw is rigid. I don’t wanna tell her anything in case she’s the blackmailer. ‘Nah. Back to Perth tomorrow ay. No holidays.’
Richelle raises a tired eyebrow. ‘I forgot what you were like. We hardly ever took a holiday when we were together. I don’t miss that.’
I never let myself slack off or take holidays, even now I’m single. If I went overseas where nobody recognised me, maybe I’d get drunk enough to do something I’d regret.
