Page 29 of Lord of the Lock

Nathan: Hey fake boyfriend, wanna be my fake date and get real good food tonight?

Finn: I thought you’d never ask.

The Pont had come on leaps and bounds since my parents had taken it over. It had once been a social club and bar like so many others in the Valleys, but they were dime-a-dozen and the clientele was shrinking rapidly. They’d worked together on this labour of love to bring it more upmarket, to turn it into something Pontycae was sorely missing. They’d repainted the walls, polished the floors, brought in new artwork and a chef from Cardiff, but the shape of the old bar was still present.

Some of the old clientele still sat on stools next to the old bar in the corner and ordered pints from the minute they finished work until they had to go home to their wives and children. But that crowd was growing old and dying out, and the Pont Hotel was for the most part an up-and coming gastropub with all the fancy new-age quirks that brought. I was sat on a tiny table in one corner of the room, lit by the flicker of a cold electric candle. My mother was stood behind the bar coordinating staff about on this busy night, and every time I looked over she was looking at me. Waiting for the chance to meet my man.

I noticed Finn as soon as he stepped into the room. But then again, pretty much everyone did. He was huge and gorgeous, and dressed to impress in a shirt that hugged close to his body in a way that made me jealous I wasn’t a shirt.

I waved at him from my little table, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw me made me think that perhaps he was almost as pleased to see me as I was him. He made his way through the restaurant, all eyes on his massive frame as he edged between tables and just about avoided knocking things over. He was surprisingly graceful for a man with a body that would make Bigfoot feel inadequate.

“Evening,” he said as he slipped into his chair.

“How’s your day been?” I asked.

“Good, actually. Rhod asked me to take on an extra team activity so my diary is filling up, but it’s good to keep busy. Keeps my mind and my hands occupied.” Finn picked up the wine list to have a look. “What do you drink? Sorry, I’ve never really asked.”

“I don’t,” I confessed. We’d been honest with each other so far, and he didn’t feel like the kind of person to pressure that information out of me. “In my old relationship, things got complicated by drink. I stopped not long after I moved away permanently.”

“Oh, sorry. I can avoid drinking around you if you’d like.” Finn put the menu away hastily and almost knocked over the salt and pepper shakers.

“No, no there’s no need,” I said. “Honestly. It’s a me problem, not a you problem.”

Finn seemed unsure what to say to that, but he was saved from having to reply by the presence of my mother, holding a notepad and dressed in much smarter managerial wear than I’d ever seen her wearing in the Pont Hotel. “What can I get you both to drink?” she asked.

“Finn, this is my mum Tina, Mum, this is Finn.”

“Nice to meet you,” Finn stuck his hand out for Mum to shake.

Mum took his hand and shook it. “And what are your intentions for my son?”

“Could you be any more cliché?” I groaned as Finn turned a deep red. We both knew that our intentions were anything but honourable, especially compounded by recent activities. We were living a lie and living in sin. So shoot us.

“Just….seeing where things go,” he muttered. He made eye contact with me under heavy brows, and I had to do all I could to keep myself from laughing.

“I see,” Mum said. “So, drinks?”

“Lime and soda for me please,” I said.

“Same for me,” said Finn. Mum nodded and headed back behind the bar before I could ask him if that wasreallywhat he wanted.

“How come you’re not drinking?” I asked. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

“I’m stopping tonight onmyaccount,” said Finn. “It’s way too easy to get into a bit of a routine with drink, and I think that’s what I’ve been doing recently.”

“Fair dos. What are you thinking of, food-wise?” I asked. “I used to help with cooking until Mum noticed that I was stealing more chips than I was serving. Then I got put on waiter service, but I was such a quiet kid that I didn’t exactly endear myself to customers.”

Finn laughed. “Thank God you went into a business that requires customer service skills round the clock then.”

“Why do you think I kept my shop mostly online? I might be quiet in person but I send a fantastic fucking email. Anyway, food?”

Finn perused the menu. “Steak any good here?”

“The best. But I’m a fan of fish, personally. The chef does a mean salmon.”

Finn’s nose wrinkled. “Sirloin steak for me then, I’m not much of a fish fan.”

Another waitress came over with our drinks and took our food orders. Obviously Mum had seen enough of Finn to trust someone else to deal with him now. I was just thankful for the lack of awkwardness.

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