Hammer looks more wounded than I expected. He’s always been a bully, but in that moment, I feel sorry for him. I’m the only one here who knows who he really is.
As Hammer looks over the crowd, he spots me. His mouth opens in shock. ‘You …’
Mason and Brayden turn to me curiously, but before there’s any more chance for interaction, Hammer’s swept into the car and driven away.
The protest goes for another half-hour, but once Hammer’s whisked away, everyone loses their oomph. Xander gets increasingly riled up, demanding someone addresses the crowd, and when they don’t, he goes on an Insta Live and sobs about how the Eagles have turned up their noses at the queer community and he is ‘tired, broken and heartbroken’ at fighting so hard and being silenced.
The footy boys suggest we decamp to the Tool Shed for drinks and commiserations; in fact, they’ve started abbreviating it to just ‘the Shed’, which I know Curtis will love. I’m surprised Xander agrees to join us there, given how he snarked at Ahmed, but maybe he’s making an exception for the occasion.
Once we arrive at the Tool Shed, of course, I realise I was wrong.
Brayden drove me and Mason to the protest in his gecko-green hatchback, so he drives us into Northbridge ahead of the protestors.
We have a bitch about Xander in the car. We all agree he’s coming from a good place, but is overzealous and doesn’t realise he’s hurting good people in the process.
‘Silenced isn’t quite the right word, is it?’ Brayden says. ‘Ignored, sure. But there’s never been anyone louder than Xander, has there?’
‘I don’t know why he’s so involved,’ Mason blurts out, turning the dial down on Brayden’s Chappell Roan mix. ‘Bloke’s never played footy in his life. He doesn’t even watch it. Footy culture is more laid-back than all this.’
‘Are you saying you don’t agree with the protest anymore?’ Brayden asks.
‘I agree with the principle,’ Mason says. ‘But we’ve made our point, haven’t we? Xander’s talking about taking it further – why? I do like it when footy is just about footy. I kinda see Brick and Jack’s point.’
‘Don’t tell Xander,’ I warn. ‘He’ll scratch your eyes clean out.’
Mason laughs, and glances into the wing mirror to make refracted eye contact with me. ‘You’re funny, mate,’ he says. ‘Hey, sorry we were talking footy back there – didn’t give you much of a chance to jump into the convo, ay.’
Between him calling me funny and noticing I was left out, my heart has exploded into little fireworks.That’s okay, Firetruck, you can make it up to me when we’re married and I have your babies.
‘Charlie’s actually not wrong,’ Brayden advises. ‘Don’t tell Xander, unless you want him to turn on you, too.’
I’m surprised to hear not just how serious Brayden sounds when he says that, but how he clearly sees Xander the way I do, especially given Xander thought of him as a friend.
‘Has he always been like this, Bray?’ I ask. ‘I mean, he wasn’t always a famous activisty influencer guy – when did he start going kinda … over the top?’
Brayden frowns at the traffic banking up at a red light and slows down. ‘You know, the funny thing is that I used to be the famous one of the two of us,’ he explains.
After the Brink stuff, Brayden was the only one of the surviving leavers who did a bunch of media interviews and true-crime podcasts about what happened on the island. The rest of them kept out of the public eye as much as possible, but Brayden wasn’t shy about it.
‘Xander was a pimply twink called Alex when we first became friends,’ Brayden explains. ‘Rich but not popular, shit parents. He got some reflected spotlight from being mates with me. I eventually got tired of the media stuff and moved on from my fifteen seconds, but when his acne cleared and he got hot, he used some of my contacts to land his first gigs. He rebranded himself as Xander, got on TV and hooked up with that other gay influencer from Sydney and their fame multiplied and he went kaboom from there. But it kinda warped him. I say this as his friend. If you take a little gay guy who’s craved love and attention his whole life and then hyper-beam him with fame, you’ve got a recipe for a monster. Once he got a taste of it he only wanted more.’
‘He seems like he’s not even that happy, though,’ I suggest.
Brayden nods. ‘Oh, he’s not. I’ve tried to encourage him to take a break from social media, or just stick to a regular job. He won’t listen. He feels like he has this mission to rid the world of homophobia and that by playing the victim for clout he can become this social media hero. As far as he’s concerned, his behaviour is always justified no matter how much he hurts other people – because he sees himself as the victim, never the perpetrator.’
‘Like Val,’ Mason mutters.
‘Like Val, but somehow worse,’ Brayden says. ‘It’s sad, actually.’
Val was one of the girls in their leavers group, but I don’t ask why Xander’s like her: I’m distracted by this horrible pang of sadness for Xander that Brayden, one of the people he trusts most, thinks he’s a monster. And worse, I am sure Brayden’s not wrong.
‘Trust me, Xander’s a bit of a lost cause at this point,’ Brayden concludes. ‘I do care about him, but I try to just enjoy our friendship for what it is. I’m under no illusions.’
‘Could you get through to him, Bray?’ I ask. ‘Get him to maybe back off around this Pride stuff and not get so black-or-white about it?’
Brayden snorts. ‘Are you kidding me, Charlie? Hewouldscratch my eyes clean out. Once you disagree with Xander, he sees you as the enemy. It’s literally that cartoonish. The moment you cross him, you become the villain and he becomes the hero and it’s war. The only way he’s satisfied is when he vanquishes you. All you can do is not ever become his enemy. And if you do: buckle up.’
When we rock up to the Tool Shed, it’s humming: a decent weekday evening. Ahmed and Zeke are on the bar; Noah is mopping the cruising lounge; Curtis is fixing a wobbly table. There’s a few guys at the window stools, and the footy boys – Jack, Brick, Tommo and Fergus – are playing pool. Mason introduces me and Brayden to his mates, then I duck behind the bar to get our drinks.
