Page 1 of Lord of the Lock

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Chapter One - Finn

You’re pathetic.My own internal voice was stronger almost than my external one. I’d always been a king in my own little domain, joker extraordinaire and centre of attention. I used my larger than life personality to mask the pain inside. I had partied hard, fucked relentlessly, and completely screwed up my whole life in the process. And rock bottom was where I’d ended up.

Rock bottom in this case was the small Welsh village of Pontycae, known asPontunaffectionately by locals and visitors alike. Not that there were many visitors to Pont. It was a shithole, after all. It was where I’d chosen to start my self-exile after a couple of embarrassing missteps that had trashed my reputation in the world of rugby.

When I’d exiled myself I imagined that a quick call to the coach of my old team, Cardiff Old Navy, would have me reinstated and back on the payroll. But Garrett had moved on to coaching Wales and the new coach wasn’t exactly keen to give up a place on his starting squad to someone with a reputation for derailing away trips and getting embarrassingly drunk at every opportunity. Not exactly star athlete material.

I gathered up bottles from the living room and passed through the kitchen to throw them into the rubbish bin outside. I had opened all the windows and the back door so that I could cover up the smell of alcohol that seemed to permeate everywhere. My best friends were coming round to check on me. I was determined that they see I was doing better. Even if I wasn’t, exactly.

I sprayed a generous amount of Febreze around the room and made sure the little sofa was tidied up and tables wiped down. Now that the house didn’t look like a homeless squat inhabited by angry alcoholics, it wasn’t so bad.

At exactly 1pm there was a knock at the door, and I headed to open it with my heart in my mouth. Outside was a grinning Rhys Prince and his ridiculously well-styled Daddy of a boyfriend, Callum.

“How goes the day, Mr Anderson?” I asked as the big Scotsman pulled me in for a hug. Callum was one of the few people on a rugby field who almost looked eye-to eye with me. But I was still a couple inches taller than him. “Have you gained some weight?”

“Well not all of us are international rugby players any more,” he said, ruffling Rhys’ hair and then seeming to realise what he’d said. “Shit, I didn’t mean…you’ll be back to playing in no time.”

“Sure,” I snorted a laugh back, but his words had cut deep. If I hadn’t been such an idiot then I would never have lost everything I held dear in life. But I was washed up at the age of twenty-seven, and I had no idea how I’d dig myself out of the hole I was in.

“How’s my favourite star?” I asked, grabbing Rhys and pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug to diffuse the tension in the room. “Score any tries against Scotland recently?”

“Enough,” Rhys smirked, nudging Callum in the ribs.

“My nationalist heart lies with Scotland but my dick likes it when Wales win, what can I say,” said Callum. “When Wales lose, I have to get the tissues out for an entirely different reason.”

We all laughed, and it felt for a second like all the tension really had gone out of the room. We were just three old friends having a laugh, not two of the biggest legends in the game of rugby coming up to the arse-end of nowhere to console their washed up friend.

“Come on in,” I said to the two of them, gesturing them into the living room. Not much had changed from when my grandparents had lived in the valley - the decor was still old-fashioned enough to be considered antique, and the sofa was a squishy floral thing that I had never actually ascertained if my grandmother had died sitting in. Now she was six feet under and my parents were living hundreds of miles away, I had no desire to find out.

“Tea? Coffee?” I asked. The only big changes anywhere in the house were all the fancy electronics I’d brought from Cardiff. In the living room I had my top of the range games consoles and TV, and the kitchen was decked out with my smart-fridge, smart-washer and smart….well, everything really. All my appliances were connected to one another and to the internet in some way, which had been great in Cardiff where the WiFi was speedy. Here, things crashed more often than not.

“Alexa, three shots of espresso,” I said. Thankfully, there was no delay and the coffee machine started to hum as it ground down the beans.

“We should get one of those,” said Rhys as I brought the coffees in. “They’re well cool.”

“Around my kids? They’d be ordering more than I could afford as soon as they figured out how to use the thing,” Callum laughed.

“Tell them their Uncle Finn misses them,” I said. I had a soft spot for Logan and Olivia. They were sweet kids and Callum was nice enough to let me around them when lots of people were wary of my influence because of my past stupidity. I did my best not to be too bad an influence on them.

“They miss their Uncle Finn too,” said Callum. “How’s living back up here? Any good local pubs?”

“Callum,” Rhys warned in the least subtle tone I’d ever heard.

“Seriously Rhys, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I can go for the odd pint without being a complete loon,” I lied. As far as he knew, I was getting a real handle on any alcohol dependencies. So long as he didn’t hear my bins rattling with the sound of bottles everything was fine.

“Well in that case, fancy going out for a meal?” he asked. I groaned internally. Icoulddo it.

“Go on then, let’s find a pub in this shithole,” I said.

* * *

The Eagle was rough, but they did a good burger. At least that’s how I justified it as Rhys and Callum followed me in and Rhys’ eyes widened at the sight. The old place hadn’t been updated since about 1973 and the tables were never as clean as they could be. Despite it being only 1pm, there were a couple of local alcoholics in the corner already off their face on Special Brew and who knew what else.

“Morning,” one said to me with a little too much familiarity, and I nodded briefly before dragging Rhys and Callum over to a table in the corner.

“Stop staring like you’re on a foreign excursion,” I said to Rhys. “This isn’t the third world.”

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