Page 116 of Just Come Over
Rhys sat up. You knew in a voice when it was bad. In a face.
“What happened?” he asked. This wasn’t somebody’s injury worsening overnight, or somebody coming down with the flu. This was bad news from home. Somebody’s dad, or worse. Somebody’s baby.
Finn held out a newspaper. Oh. That meant it was the other thing: A scandal. Nothing like the Aussie media for that, and Friday, the day before the game? Yeh, that was the timing.
Well, a scandal wasn’t the worst. Nobody would have died. Somebody’s marriage might take a turn for the worse, though.
He looked at the headline, and then at the photos.
Not the worst,he told his sinking heart.The other shoe dropping, that’s all. Sooner it’s done, sooner we’re moving past it.
Four photos, laid out as a sort of “This is your life” in pictures. The first, cropped from a shot of the All Blacks lined up for the national anthem, showed Rhys beside Dylan, their arms around each other’s backs. Rhys was looking unshaven and brutal, and Dylan was looking handsome and noble. Which was fine.
The second was Dylan and Zora with a two-year-old Isaiah. Isaiah sitting on Dylan’s shoulders, Dylan with his arm around Zora, and Zora laughing, shoving her hair back with one hand, looking pretty and happy and extremely short.
Also fine. Except not.
The third was of Rhys with both kids at the Blues’ Family Day, before the game with the Hurricanes. He was standing with a hand on Isaiah’s head, and with Casey on his hip, her arms around his neck and both kids wearing Blues jerseys.
Newsworthy, maybe, but not in the Crisis Zone.
And the fourth? That was an image from seventeen years ago, the one they’d probably print with his obituary. Coming out of a door plainly markedLadies,tucking his shirt into his trousers.
Thou shalt not covet?the headline said, and in smaller letters beneath,Family ties: Rhys Fletcher comes home to the Blues, a long-lost daughter, and his brother’s wife.
Brilliant.
He read the first lines, wondering as always why anybody cared. Better than watchingNeighbours,he guessed, because the people were real. More or less.
Rhys “Drago” Fletcher, the 72-cap All Black newly appointed to coach the Auckland Blues after stints in Japan and France, comes to the job with baggage. Fletcher, who rocketed to early stardom and a Grand Final win with the Brisbane Broncos, saw his NRL career marred by numerous sex scandals, culminating in a drunken incident in a restaurant toilet with Poppy Harburton, then married to his teammate, Gerard Ailes. The ensuing drama saw Fletcher returning to New Zealand and the Crusaders the following year, where his storied career...
“Blah blah,” Rhys muttered. “And so forth.” He scanned down the column to see what else they had.Fletcher, whose divorce from Christchurch beauty Victoria Carrington was final yesterday, has long maintained that his drinking, and his exploits off the field, are in the past. When he returned to his New Zealand roots this year after the dissolution of his seven-year marriage, however, he brought with him a six-year-old daughter who had previously been living in the United States with her mother, a Chicago waitress whom Fletcher encountered during a brief stay in the city with the All Blacks.
In addition to his newly acquired family, Fletcher appears to have taken on yet another one, being seen in recent weeks at various Auckland eateries with his brother Dylan’s widow, often holding hands across the table.
Dylan Fletcher, a Blues star and All Black himself, was often overshadowed in life by his elder brother. Even after his death, it would seem, the rivalry continues.
And on in the same vein. “Right,” Rhys said, and handed the paper back to Finn. “About what you’d expect.” His heart was beating harder, but he’d been working out.
“Aiming for distraction before the game, that’s all,” Finn said.
“What else is in there?” Rhys asked. “I need to finish this workout and get a shower.”
“Rubbish piece with a psychologist. Headline isSport, drink, sex, and poaching on your teammate’s turf: When does cheating cross the line?And another one called,Role models? Why sportsmen aren’t always the best choice.Which either of us could have written. ‘Because they’re young, dumb, male, and paid too much,’ is the answer. You need to add a few hundred more words to sell papers, though, I reckon.”
“Has it been picked up in En Zed yet?” Rhys asked.
“Not yet, mate. Too early in the morning. It will be, though. You may want to ring Zora after breakfast.”
“You think?” Rhys tried a smile.
“Better if it had come out while you were home,” Finn said. “And not on the day before the game, as far as the team’s concerned. It was always going to come out, though. I can’t think it’s news to Zora, either.”
“No,” Rhys said. “We’ve discussed it. Only a matter of time. Anyway, she knows about sport, drink, and sex.”
“Except,” Finn said, “that they’re talking about the wrong brother. And that you can’t tell them so.”
He faced the squad the only way he knew how. Head-on.
