Tigerland by Sean Kennedy

head.
    “Oh my God,” I said out loud to myself, as if the concrete reality of my voice would bring me back to earth even faster. “I’m a fucking lunatic.”
    I had resolved that as soon as Fran and Roger returned we would get the hell out of there, and I could at least pretend that I had some scrap of dignity intact, but that was when Heyward appeared.
    I hadn’t seen him in person since that night at the Brownlows, and only on television or the net since then, but his image was forever burned into my brain. Declan’s infamous ex, the one that had cheated on him and kept him even further in the closet and succeeded at being the only person who ever really made Dec feel shitty about himself… there he was, walking along the street like some character in a cartoon, musical notes flying out of his mouth as he whistled merrily to himself without a care in the world.
    I hated him. The deep dark Gollum-fied twisting of my heart testified to that.
    He was my nemesis, and he didn’t even know it. He would probably laugh if he did know it, because in his mind I would be no threat to him whatsoever. I was nothing more than a cockroach, something easily crushed beneath his size thirteen feet.
    And he was going to meet my partner for a cosy little catch up.
    Without taking my eyes off him, I ferretted around in the bag Roger had brought along, feeling for the pair of binoculars he claimed he had. Pulling them out, I looked through them to see that they were useless. I might as well have been looking through the bottom of a tumbler.
    Dec was seated by the window. It was lucky for me, or else I would have had to stalk them in the cafe, with eye holes cut into a newspaper. I earned my diploma in Spy Techniques from the Looney Tunes University. Maybe Dec had even chosen that table just to prove to himself that there was nothing to worry about—that both he and Heyward were out in the open and didn’t have any reason or suspicion to hide away from anything. He stood as Heyward approached him, and I squinted as if I could make my eyes zoom in like a telephoto lens. Heyward went in with what looked like a preemptive strike of a hug, but Declan leaned back and offered his hand instead.
    Team Simon: 1; Team Heyward: 0.
    As far as I could tell, Dec was sitting with his hands crossed in front of him on the table, and he was hunched over them slightly, a sure sign that he was feeling defensive. Another good sign for me.
    I threw the binoculars back in the bag. I knew I shouldn’t be here.
    The doors to the car opened and Fran and Roger got in noisily, arguing amongst themselves. Fran handed me a coffee, and I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
    “So, what’s going on?” Fran asked.
    “Nothing much,” I said. “Are your bladder issues resolved, Roger?”
    “I’m an empty vessel.”
    Fran snorted to herself, and even I ignored the way-too-easy opening for a put-down.
    “By the way, these binoculars are shit. Where did you get them, inside a Royal showbag?”
    His silence confirmed it.
    “The James Bond one,” Fran whispered.
    “That must have been some lousy Q who developed those binoculars,” I said.
    “It was cheaper than renting a costume,” Roger said.
    I looked at Fran. She remained stoic.
    “I’m not going to say a word.” I said.
    “For a party!” Roger quickly protested. “Seriously!”
    Strange, I couldn’t ever remember Roger dressing up as Bond for a party. “Were you Pussy Galore?” I asked Fran.
    She smirked. “Tits McGee.”
    “Is this part of some seven year itch marriage therapy?” I asked.
    “We’ve been together ten years, and besides, we’re dealing with your problems,” Roger said quickly, as he knew that Fran would probably be more than happy to spill some secrets, even if I really didn’t want to hear them. But who was I to judge? Sometimes it was fun to let Declan drag out his old guernsey, or even make him wear the black and gold—
    “Why are you blushing?” Fran asked of