Hayden hesitated and then grabbed Carl by the throat and slammed him against the tiled wall.
“If I hear you talking about me, I’ll kill you. I’m not joking,” he said, pressing his thumb into Carl’s Adam’s apple. “I’ll cut you up. Break your skull. Happens all the time to scally little rent boys like you.”
Carl’s dilated eyes were wide, and he was gagging. Hayden held on for a few more seconds, then abruptly let go. Carl coughed and spat and slid down the wall to land in the damp pools of water on the dirty tiles. Hayden stepped over him and left the toilets.
Tom looked up and smiled when he came back into the bar.
“Can I get us another bottle?” he said. Hayden noticed a thick gold ring on his finger.
“Why don’t you take me back to your place?” said Hayden, sliding his hand up Tom’s thigh. Tom’s face broke into a sheepish grin.
“Okay. My car’s parked by the canal.”
It was dark outside when they left the bar. Hayden’s eyes grew wide when he saw Tom’s expensive Land Rover waiting in the shadows in the car park next to the water. The headlights flashed invitingly when Tom unlocked the car.
“This is gorgeous,” said Hayden, stroking the tan leather seats as he climbed inside.
“Thanks. It’s new.”
“It smells new. I love the smell of leather. I love leather, full stop.”
“Good. I’ve got more leather back at my place. Buckle up,” said Tom, grinning as he started the engine. They pulled up the hill to the main road.
“And where is your place?”
“Quay Apartments, on the other side of town.”
Hayden smiled. He’d hit the jackpot. You didn’t get much change from a million quid at Quay Apartments.
“You want a drink?” asked Tom.
“At your place?”
“No. Now,” he said, tilting his head toward a leather square between the front seats. “Open it.”
Hayden opened the lid, and nestled inside was a small box fridge containing miniature bottles of Mo?t and Coca-Cola.
“You’ve got a bar in your car—that’s a bit naughty,” said Hayden.
“I don’t like my friends to go thirsty.”
For the first time, Hayden felt a pang of guilt. Tom seemed like a nice guy. He pushed the thought away. He picked up one of the small Mo?t bottles. The foil had been removed, and he untwisted the metal cage from the cork, teasing it out with a small pop.
“There’s straws in the bottom of the fridge,” added Tom. They reached a junction that sloped down to the empty motorway.
Hayden took out one of the paper straws, put it in the bottle. Tom leaned over with one eye on the road. “Give us a sip.” Hayden held out the bottle and watched as Tom put his lips to the straw and swallowed. “Lovely.”
Hayden took a sip from the straw. It was cold and deliciously tart. The pang of guilt came back to him again. What if this Tom could be someone good in his life? A boyfriend who’d love him and look after him? For the next five minutes, they chatted and laughed. The only other vehicle they passed was a small white van tootling along in the slow lane.
Hayden finished the bottle quickly, and as he put it in the cup holder, a wave of lethargy came over him, and he started to feel dizzy. The lights of the town on the horizon were starting to streak and flare when he moved his head. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
“How are you enjoying that champagne? Want another?” asked Tom, looking over at him. An alarm was going off in the back of Hayden’s mind, but everything felt far away. He shifted in his seat, but his legs were heavy.
“Was that champagne I drank?” he slurred. He looked down, and a ribbon of drool was hanging off his bottom lip.
“Champagne. With a little added extra,” said Tom with a laugh. Hayden put his head back against the leather headrest, but it felt like his skull was melting into the soft leather. He pulled his head away. The lights outside were now trailing long lines in his vision. “Did you know, Hayden, that you can push a syringe through a champagne cork down into the bottle?” Tom looked different. In the bar he’d seemed like a big, bashful teddy bear, but now his brown eyes were hard, and he had a hungry stare. “The cork is fairly soft, but you really have to fight against the pressure of the carbon dioxide in the bottle when you get the needle in. You can feel it trying to force the plunger part of the syringe back out . . . The cork reseals itself; it really is a marvel.” He laughed. It echoed and reverberated around the inside of the car. There were no streetlights, thought Hayden. Why were they on the motorway? They’d left town, but Tom had said he lived in town.