7

"What are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about?" his friend Sawyer greeted him.

Andy unlocked the shed he rented in the yard of a transmission shop where Sawyer worked part-time when not busking. This time of year the money was better doing that than working on cars. "Rhys agreed to go shopping with me this afternoon."

"A date? Woohoo. When was the last time you had sex?"

"Excuse me? It's shopping, not sex. He's a mate, that's all. Besides, he's married to Gwen… remember her? Gappy bitch?" Andy picked out his only pair of black jeans.

Sawyer threw his head back and laughed. "Didn't you know shopping leads to sex? It all depends on what you buy. You need any money?"

Andy fingered the wad of bills in his pocket, an advance on the handyman work Beryl gave him. "Nah, I'm good. Got a better job."

"A real one? Cool."

"Temporary handyman."

Sawyer flexed his fingers. "I'm sure you're real handy."

Shaking his head, Andy punched Sawyer's upper arm. "Rein in your imagination. Rhys's not the type of man to succumb to my charms."

"Then you gotta up your game, man." Sawyer took a beaded stone necklace from his neck and placed it around Andy's. "An Energy Muse Performance Necklace, bloodstone, black onyx, tiger's eye, rutilated quartz and an ancient Chinese coin for good fortune."

"Thanks, man. I'm going to hit the showers at the Y and catch you later."

"I want the complete scoop." Sawyer gave him a thumbs up. "Performance, man. Endurance. Think, 'I am an unlimited being.'"

.

.

Rhys gasps when he spies Andy standing under the arch of the clock tower. He hasn't spotted him yet, so Rhys has a chance to check him out long and slow. The wind and rain from the night before had died down, and the weather's on the cool side, but not freezing. He's wearing a black leather bomber jacket, and his legs are encased in thin black jeans over black boots.

The warm blue chambray shirt is open at the collar, and a beaded necklace with an antique Chinese coin hangs around his neck. His hair is trimmed shorter on the sides, but full and wavy on top, and he's clean shaven.

Andy turns as Rhys draws near, and the way his eyebrows rise when he spies him sends a sizzle of excitement up his spine. It's the recognition of attraction, the scent of desire, the activation of the primitive fucking urge.

"Hungry?" he asks. "There are quite a few gourmet shops in there with tasty snacks, organic and fairtrade."

Try expensive. Rhys is not about to spend the meagre amount he saved for Anwen, Mum, and Gwen's Christmas gifts on oak aged balsamic vinegar or smoked chili chocolate truffles. But we're here, and it'll be fun to enjoy the sights and smells and pretend to be gourmands.

Andy leads him through the arched entrance into a tunnel-like steel structure. The ceilings soar high and open with skylights over the bustle and noise of the holiday crowd. A dazzling array of sights and heavenly scents emanate from the storefronts. Rhy finds himself in an area he has not bene in before and realizes this is the real food quarter. Long lines queued for basic necessities like coffee and bread.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Andy asks, leaning close to speak in his ear. "What would you like? There are raw oysters, artisan breads, dumplings."

"Let's see if there are any samples." Rhys squeezes into the olive oil shop where they have bits of bread crust for dipping and tasting.

"Hey, don't worry about sampling," Andy says. "I've a bit of money and want to buy you something you've never tried before."

"You don't have to," Rhys replies. "Let's walk around and enjoy the sights. We can play a game. You point to something, and I'll guess whether you'd like it or not."

They wander from the organic honey display to the stalls selling goat cheese, marvel at the variety of rustic breads and rolls, and sample bourbon-bacon jam on apple biscuits.

"Then you must go with me to Little Kabul. The kebobs are to die for." Rhys gushes as he recognizes a brand. Andy thinks it is sweet how much of a foodie Rhys is.

"How was work this morning? You have a Christmas break?" Andy asks as they walk "Anwen must miss out on Gwen too, this being the busy season for Spooky Dos and such."

"That's her line of work." Rhys huffs, showing annoyance "She chose this."

"Yeah, but did you?" His tone is casual, but Rhys can tell he's curious.

Rhys tries to think of a good response, the usual ones he gives everyone but for some reason he can't lie. Instead, they continue in silence.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Andy says, as he leans against the concrete base of the statue.

"You know what? I'm thirsty. Shall we get something to drink?"

"Good idea." Andy scans the sign boards advertising organic smoothies. "I could get you one of those gluten-free, kale, avocado, chia seed concoctions."

"No way. Hot spice apple cider toddy with a shot of Jack Daniels for me."

they weave through the crowds back to one of many bistros hawking drinks. Andy's so attentive, making sure Rhys's drink is wrapped in an insulated cardboard holder, sweeping stray drips, even dabbing the side of the cup with a napkin so nothing drips on him.

"Let's go somewhere and get Anwen her present."

Rhys finds himself going over and over those words. It is a slow awakening, like water coming to the boil but by the time they have turned the corner he finds that he has... turned the corner.

Rhys sees with clarity that there was never a choice.

Just a demand, an order and a dismissal.

Well... he is tired of being dismissed.