An existential fear bubbles within me. Suddenly I understand Hammer’s resistance to the Pride Guernsey. It’s unsettling, one-dimensionalising, reducing us to our sexuality. Worse, we are the ones doing the reducing. Or is it the world that wants to pockmark us? Either way, why are we shouted at if we don’t want it?
Xander is in full flight. ‘The LGBTQIA+ community is constantly under threat, especially in the sporting arena,’ he declares. ‘Queerphobia keeps lots of our beautiful rainbow community self-selecting out of playing any team sports at all.’ He rattles off a series of statistics he pulled from some study. This feels like a church sermon.
‘Yeah, we already know, bitch,’ Fergus interrupts. ‘That’s why these guys started this team in the first place.’
‘Mate, did you not hear me?’ Brick booms at Xander. ‘I asked you to leave.’
Apparently that’s Jack’s cue to unleash. He stands up, tattooed arms tensed by his side as he marches across the clubroom with an aggro bouncer swagger, and bellows at Xander, ‘LEAVE NOW, OR I’LL BREAK YA FUCKEN LEGS, CUNT.’
Xander blanches and jumps back, making for the door and fleeing into the rainy night outside.
If Jack was screaming in my face, I’d shit my dacks.
Watching him do it standing up for all of us – I have never wanted to be someone else more in my entire life. I wish I was bigand loud and tough like Jack Brolo. I wish I had the guts to say how I feel when I’m angry.
And for the rest of the night, I can’t help wondering what would happen if I ever did.
Sabrina and I meet for lunch the next day at a busy Korean café in Northbridge called Panda Panda. It’s a trendy, woke-adjacent place due to its hipster location, full of people with asymmetrical haircuts and sleeve tattoos. We sit at a high metal table with dangly lights over it. Sabrina’s stool is in a patch of sunlight; the legs of my stool are wobbly and uneven. Sabrina orders a poke bowl and I order a bao bun.
Neither of us brings up that we’re here to have a serious talk, so we discuss TV shows and people at Sabrina’s work and the latest drama with Shane and Allison. It’s nice.
Before we get into the weeds of why we’re here, a voice at the entrance calls out, ‘Oi! Fudgy!’
I turn, expecting one of the footy boys. To my surprise, there’s a quiffed guy with sailor tattoos wearing flanno and a surfy blond mulleted dude with an oversized Mad Hueys T-shirt: Vince and Noah from the Tool Shed. Noah’s got a Dare Iced Coffee in his shell-braceleted hand, while Vince is clutching one of the cold brew coffee sodas I wasn’t game enough to try: it looks like effervescent douche water.
They both guffaw when I respond to the nickname ‘Fudgy’. I give them a wave, which they take as an invitation to come and say hi.
‘Fancy running into you here,’ Vince says. Noah gives me a bro nod.
‘How’d you know about the Fudgy thing?’ I ask, avoiding Sabrina’s gaze. ‘I thought what happens on footy trip stays on footy trip.’
‘Apparently not everything,’ Noah observes, before swigging his iced coffee.
‘Jack and Fergus dropped into the bar and we heard about your exploits in Lancelin,’ Vince teases. ‘Fergus is cute. I’d go there, too.’ He notices Sabrina and looks her over. ‘Hey, I’m Vince,’ he says. ‘Love your blazer. It’s very Girl Boss.’
Sabrina beams. ‘That’s what I’m going for. Nice to meet you. I’m Sabrina. How do you guys know Zeke?’
I wince, but there’s no way to stop the train we’re already on.
‘We work together,’ Vince says. ‘I can’t believe he’s never mentioned us. We’re incredibly interesting people.’
Noah shakes his head. ‘Man, you talk some shit, Vince, for real.’
‘Oh, you work at the call centre?’ Sabrina asks.
The train is crashing in real time. I can only watch.
Vince screws up his face. ‘Ew. God no. I could never work in a call centre. I’d tell everyone to fuck off! No, we work together at the bar. I taught Zeke everything he knows about how to pour a good beer with minimal froth spillage.’
Sabrina blinks, and looks at me for clarification. ‘What? A bar?’
‘Yeah, the Shed,’ Noah says; I guess the abbreviation is catching on even with the staff now. ‘The Tool Shed,’ he clarifies. ‘You know it?’
Sabrina’s tone is too cordial to be real sugar. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of it.’
‘Speaking of – we’re on shift soon, so we’d better head down or Ahmed will get all prissy,’ Vince says, rolling his eyes. ‘Seeya tonight, Zeke – you’ve got the five pm shift, right?’
‘Nah, call him Fudgy again,’ Noah eggs on.
