Page 10 of Hoodoo House
Declan shrugged his shoulders.
“Mr Hunt, Charles, would you follow me, please?” Honeyfield called out.
“Uh…it’s Charlie!” Charlie corrected again.
Declan looked at him and smirked. He offered Charlie his arm and the two of them entered the ballroom.
The room was decorated in soft blues and golds and illuminated by thirteen large crystal chandeliers. Charlie had read that it could hold over three hundred guests. He estimated that there were only about a hundred there tonight.
“I’m so pleased to see a big crowd,” Honeyfield crowed. “Ticket sales really took off when we announced you as the recipient of this year’s Vriend Medal.”
When they walked into the room, all eyes turned towards them…hungry eyes of gay men scoping out the handsome detective and… Their gazes said it—Who is that slim young man with him?
“The plan for the evening,” Honeyfield said as he paraded them around the room, “is drinks and canapés, followed by introductions and the presentation of the Vriend Medal. Then your speech, of course, before we move on to…well, more drinks and food and dancing! Now, I’ll leave you to mingle with the guests.”
Before Declan or Charlie could say anything, Honeyfield had spun around and headed towards the nearest drink-toting waiter.
Declan had a concerned look on his face. “A speech? I didn’t know anything about a speech? Did you know anything about a speech?”
“No,” Charlie replied. “No one said anything at all about you making a speech. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Just say something like, ‘Thanks, this really means a lot to me. It justifies my existence’, that sort of thing. From the looks of it, these people are just happy to throw back a bunch of drinks and stare at a hot award-winning detective.”
Declan stared at Charlie.
“Oh, come on,” Charlie said, “You do know how great you look in that tux, don’t you? It fits you like it was painted on.”
“Look,” Declan said as he grabbed Charlie by the shoulders and pulled him closer. “I can face a killer with a gun pressed against my head, or take a few good kicks to the gut, but speaking in public…it really isn’t my thing.”
It was at that moment Honeyfield mounted the steps to the podium, tapped the microphone and started to talk. Declan looked towards the door like he was going to make a run for it. Charlie reached over to an older gentleman and grabbed his drink which had just been delivered by a waiter. “I need this. Emergency,” Charlie said.
“Drink this. Now!” Charlie handed the glass to Declan. The detective did as he was instructed.
Charlie continued, “Okay, when the time comes, you are going to walk up to that podium. When you climb those three steps, you are going to flex those ass muscles of yours. I don’t care if that tux is made of painter’s canvas, people will notice. They’re going to give you that medal, or whatever it is, and you will turn to the audience and smile. Just say ‘Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.’ At that point everyone here will be thinking of nothing else but how gorgeous you are.”
In the background Honeyfield’s speech droned on. He spoke of the man that the medal was named for—Delwin Vriend—and how his fight for equal rights should be a lesson to everyone there. He continued to deliver the speech with a complete lack of passion, which didn’t surprise Charlie in the least.
“… And as you all know, this year’s recipient of the Vriend Medal, for his support of the LGBTQ+ community, is Declan Hunt, a man who has dedicated his career to fighting for individuals who have been forgotten by the public servants who have been entrusted with that…sacred task.”
Charlie managed to get one more drink into Declan before the moment came. Honeyfield crowed, “And now, please welcome to the stage, this year’s winner of the Vriend Medal, Declan Hunt.”
The detective walked with confidence, then climbed, flexing with every stair. Honeyfield placed a beautiful silver medallion suspended on a rainbow-coloured ribbon around Declan’s neck. The detective turned and smiled. A hundred hearts fluttered. Declan looked around the room, then locked eyes with Charlie.
Declan took a deep breath and began. “The thought of speaking in public terrifies me, but my assistant, Charlie Watts, told me simply to say, ‘Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.’”
Declan held the medal and looked at it.
“I didn’t understand how much this would mean until Roger put it around my neck. Looking at it now, I realize why I do what I do.” Declan cleared his throat. “You see…one of the first cases I worked on as a police constable was the disappearance of a young boy. His name was”—he swallowed again—“Freddy Whitcher. Two days ago would have been his birthday. He was only thirteen back then and, when his father found out that he was gay, he beat him. He beat him every night for two weeks until Freddy had finally had enough. So he ran away from home and away from his family who were supposed to love and protect him. He wound up living on the streets.”
There was a catch in Declan’s voice. Charlie stepped closer to the stage, in front of the podium and willed him to keep going.
Declan took a sip of water and continued, “Can you imagine what it was like for that thirteen-year-old kid trying to survive alone on the streets of Calgary? In the winter? Can you imagine the things he had to do just to stay alive?”
The room was silent. No one moved. All eyes were focused on Declan.
“I was the cop who found Freddy, or what was left of him. No one knew whether he just got too close to the fire trying to stay warm or… It was at that moment that I knew that I was going to dedicate my life to helping people like Freddy or anyone in our community who needs help fighting against prejudice, discrimination and hatred, especially from those who are supposed to be out there protecting them. I discovered I couldn’t do that fully as a member of the Calgary Police Service so I had to go out on my own. And if I can succeed, maybe, just maybe, Freddy can forgive me for not finding him in time. So I accept this award in honour of him. Thank you.”
Declan stepped down from the podium, and the room erupted into applause. As he walked towards Charlie, people shook Declan’s hand. Others hugged him after wiping away their tears. From behind him Charlie heard, “How could you not fall in love with that man?”
Charlie made his way towards Declan and put his arms around him.
