Page 23 of Full Service

“You can be proud of both,” said Hywel quietly.

“Well, my Mam is more proud of you for having a shiny Aston Martin than she is of me for knowing how to fix it. So maybe things wouldn’t change even if she knew.”

“I hate that fucking car,” said Hywel. “I bought it when I had three hundred grand. Because I had that much money for the first time. And I thought I was going to be on the up and up for life. Well, I peaked there I think. Never had that much cash in hand again. It was allassetsandliquidityfrom then on. And London’s traffic and congestion charges meant it was fucking expensive to take anywhere. And the petrol, my God thepetrol.I’ve had to cancel my insurance on it too for now, so I can’t even drive it out of here.”

At the start of the week, it might have brought me some perverse joy to see Hywel brought low. “I hope you get your money back soon, mate,” I said. And I meant it.

“No worries. My own stupid life decisions have come back to haunt me. And now I’ve got to sit down with your parents and pretend everything is alright and life is going swimmingly.”

“I’ll tell them I’m pregnant if that helps? Take the pressure off you a bit?” I gave him a smile that thankfully was returned.

“They’ll only hope I’m the father,” he said. “Get you a nice rich university educated boy.”

“C’mon, it’s quiet. Let me show you something.” I led Hywel out of the garage and to the yard. “You think your Aston is expensive to run, you should have a baby like this.”

My car was my pride and joy, and though most wouldn’t expect much from the outside she was a little beast to run. I’d personally spray painted the little 1996 Golf GTi in purple and given it gold rims.

“It’s all a bit…gaudy, isn’t it?” said Hywel. I got the feeling he was being polite.

“Yeah, but she’s fast. Turbocharged engine, customised suspension, bucket seats and entertainment system. Plus, if I bump her it doesn’t feel as painful as knocking something like an Aston Martin…and I like gaudy. It’s very 90s.”

“You hardly remember the 90s!”

“Yeah, well, we were poor. So I had a Gameboy and Pokemon, I was just 6 years behind everyone else.”

“So culturally, we’re the same age?” joked Hywel.

“Sure. If that makes you feel younger, old man. You’ll be forty before I turn thirty five and that’s all that matters in this world.”

We both went quiet for a moment. Had I acknowledged this as some kind of lasting friendship? I didn’t know. Hywel looked like he’d cheered up a little bit but not entirely.

“Fancy a ride, old man?” I asked. His eyes widened and he looked me up and down. “No, stupid. In the car. I can drive ridiculously irresponsibly down these lanes and no one will ever know.”

Hywel smiled. “Go on then. Let’s dice with death.”

Chapter Seven

Hywel

December 11th

December was going by quickly, and dinner with Macsen and his parents had rolled around faster still. I’d spent two days in the flat calling local estate agents and investors I knew so that I could gauge interest in the properties I owned. Thanks to the success ofThrones of Blood, my investments in Hiraeth had turned out the smartest ones I ever made. Thirty thousand pounds worth of property had quadrupled in value. I knew this might mean increased rental rates for the people who were currently contracted with me, so I owed it to them to at least ask them if they’d like to buy. Alun and Alaw had been pretty clear on what they viewed as unfair prices, so I’d stand to lose some of that capital gained.

I buried my head in my hands. There was another matter niggling at the back of my mind too, one I had looked into extensively and still couldn’t make a decision on.

I could of course offer to sell the garage to Macsen. But because of the sheer size of the plot and the money he was taking in, it was the most valuable for investment. Holiday homes were increasingly popular on the coast of Wales, and the plot the garage was on could easily support a small estate too. I had printed all the particulars of the garage but every time I looked at them I felt uneasy.

I tucked the garage papers into my folder. That was an issue for a different day. Right now, I had to face up to seeing Macsen’s family and pretending to be something I wasn’t.

Most strange was that Gruff didn’t seem to have told his mother that we hadn’t spoken to one another in the best part of a decade. Surely she wouldn’t have invited me so casually if she knew that we’d fallen out the way we had.

Macsen popped his head out of the bathroom, hair and beard dripping water onto the hardwood floor I’d so carefully mopped. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Can you grab me a towel from the dryer please?” he asked.

I put the folder down on the coffee table next to my laptop and stood up, groaning as I did so. My body hadn’t taken too well to the change from Egyptian cotton and memory foam to an old sofa, and ten nights of sleeping awkwardly on the old sofa was really starting to take its toll.

I grabbed a towel from the dryer and passed it to Macsen through the door, sneaking a subtle glance at him as I did so. Water ran down from his beard, through the hair and happy trail that ran from stomach to groin, over his soft but still intimidating cock and down defined calves. I looked away before the sight could start getting me hard.

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