The phone message isn’t such a saviour in the end.
It’s the worst DM yet.
‘Open up!’ I shout, pounding on the wooden door. ‘Zeke! Open the fucken door!’
There are voices and the sounds of feet on wooden floorboards.
A voice says, ‘Hammer? He’s early …’
The door swings open.
Zeke’s standing in front of me in a singlet and footy shorts, chewing on some toast. There’s a big bloke behind him like a bodyguard, arms crossed, staunching me.
‘Kade, our beer is this arvo …’ Zeke says, trying to swallow. ‘It’s brekky time.’
‘It couldn’t wait,’ I cry, shoving my phone screen in Zeke’s face.
The big bloke’s arm intercepts me and grabs my wrist, thinking I was taking a swing at Zeke’s skull. He’s taller than me but I’ve outmuscled big full-backs before.
‘Leggo of my arm, cunt,’ I snap.
‘Calm ya tits, you aggro fuck,’ he snarks back.
‘Let him go, Rex, it’s okay,’ Zeke says, taking my phone and reading the DMs. ‘Oh, wow, this is full on. Blackmail.’ He hands me the phone back. ‘Uh, you wanna come in?’
‘Shoes off!’ a camp voice calls from another room.
Zeke tells me to take my sneakers off. I ignore him and follow him and Rex into the house.
There’s downbeat electronic music on in the background. The stack of hot buttered toast on the wooden dining table smells delicious.
There’s five guys around the table. A big Black dude who looks like a retired pro bodybuilder; a slim Arab-looking guy with shaped eyebrows; the big prick who grabbed my wrist, Rex; Zeke, who I came to see; and Charlie Roth, who I came to destroy.
‘Wow, Hammer is in our house,’ Charlie says, all sarcastic, spreading Vegemite on his toast as if he’s not guilty. ‘The boys back together again. Nice reunion, huh?’
I lunge at him and shove the phone screen in his face. ‘This isn’t funny anymore!’ I shout. ‘Stop sending me these messages!’ While Charlie’s looking at the DMs, I turn to Zeke. ‘Make him stop,’ I say. ‘It’s fucked up.’
Zeke looks between me and Charlie urgently. ‘Kade, Charlie didn’t send you this – what makes you think he did?’
‘You two are the only ones who know about me!’ I say, immediately regretting it, since there are three strangers at the table. ‘And it’s not you, is it?’
‘Of course not,’ Zeke says.
‘So it’s Charlie.’
‘He would never,’ Zeke tells me, as Charlie scrolls down the list of messages. ‘There has to be some other explanation.’
‘Oh, I dunno,’ Charlie says, handing my phone back and smirking with the same upstart grin he had at high school. ‘Maybe itwasme.’
Heat fills my cheeks, balloons of blood and rage. ‘I knew it,’ I whisper.
‘Schoolyard bully got a taste of his own medicine, huh?’ Charlie says. ‘Remember how you reacted when you found out about me, Hammer?’ He pauses his Vegemite-spreading and glares at me. ‘Intimidating me in that locker room, shouting atme to admit it was a phase? No, you deserve every bit of this. Not nice being taunted without mercy, is it?’
The other three at the table share a look. The rumour is now dangling in open air.Kade Hammersmith is a poofter.
Zeke swivels to Charlie. ‘Wait – are you saying – did you send those messages, man?’
‘It’s not funny and I’ve learned my lesson, okay,’ I tell Charlie. ‘Don’t tell anyone on Sunday. Don’t do this.’
