GAWAIN'S DOMAIN - PART 1
They had trouble landing the private jet close to his back garden but with the unofficial use of the local park, they got close enough.
An entourage that looked like something from 'Entourage' approached the run down council estate in Rhyl West 2, Denbighshire.
To say they looked out of place would be an understatement. If Aliens had landed from Mars they would have been more congruous than this tight knit Hollywood mafia.
Knocking at the door of Number 3 they got short thrift. It was only after knocking the fifth time a response arrived in the form of a big bellied, red eyed man who looked like he’d just been disturbed from a wretched hangover.
To say he was pissed off would be yet another understatement to add to the one before.
“Yeah?”
“We’re looking for Gawain."
“What are you, fucking nonces?”
The entourage looked perplexed.
“Do you know by chance what time he might be back?”
The big bellied man scratched his armpit and yawned simultaneously, a rare feat.
“He usually comes back when he gets hungry. I’d say try around 8.”
Louis, a sun baked executive, stepped forward.
“Is there somewhere we can wait?”
Gawain’s dad, Dylan, pointed to a derelict looking building opposite.
“Pub over there. The Well and Anchor. Or Wanker as we call it.”
Laughing at his own joke, the team of executives took that as their cue to leave the strange and pungent man well alone.
Waiting in the decrepit pub which had more dirt and stains about the place than they’d ever seen in all of their spotless Californian lives, the team had a profound sense of time passing and were struggling to make conversation between themselves.
In their native habitat back in Los Angeles it was a crime to waste time like this.
The way they saw it, time was not tax-deductible.
At one minute to eight they exited the pub and headed back to see if Gawain had returned.
He hadn’t and so they were forced to wait even longer for his return, struggling with the Well & Anchor’s patchy wi-fi to reach the outside world.
They’d given Gawain’s dad a number to call once he was back.
He gave them his word for what it was or wasn’t worth that he would get his son to call.
Watching through a pair of binoculars from his mate’s house next door to his own, Gawain surveyed the physical behaviour of the group from California as if he had anticipated their arrival for some time.
His mate Kevin was playing on his PS5 and was somewhat mystified as to Gawain’s behaviour himself.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Just a little psychological trick I read about.”
“What is it?”
He never answered his friend’s question but instead slipped his coat on and prepared to leave.
“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit.
“Grab us some crisps if you’re going to the pub.”
“What flavour?”
“Salt.”
Gawain nodded before checking his appearance in the hallway mirror then took a deep breath.
His destiny was in his hands.
Kevin, suddenly remembering an additional item he desired, shouted after him.
“And a fruit and nut!”
But he’d already gone.
The executive team were relieved finally to have Gawain at their table which was decorated with stale beer and cigarette burns.
After they’d exchanged introductory salutations, they got down to business.
Louis led the discussion as self-appointed leader of the group.
“At the forefront of our mind is to make sure you feel as comfortable with our offer as we possibly can.”
“Go on then. What is it?” Gawain said curtly, cutting to the chase.
Louis looked back to the rest of the team. They all nodded in unison so as to prompt Louis to proceed with the agreed offer.
“Let me write it down for you.”
He wrote down the figure on a napkin, turned it over, then slid it toward Gawain.
Gawain turned over the napkin and clocked the figure written down.
He then looked up at Louis and smiled.
“You’re having a laugh.”
Louis looked disheartened.
“Why? It’s too low?”
“It’s lower than my old man’s balls.”
Disturbed by Gawain’s dismissive counter to his offer, Louis, found himself taken aback by the young boy’s boldness.
“What sort of figure would you suggest roughly?”
“Let me write it down for you.”
Sliding his offer back to Louis, the executive took a look at the number written down.
“What is it Louis?” asked Christina, a glamorous looking woman sitting to the left of Louis as she noticed his tanned complexion turning suddenly pale.
‘You’re insane if you think we can meet you at that price.”
Gawain smiled and took an extended sip from his pint of coke.
24 hours later and Gawain had finally got them to agree to his conditions including a few extra details relating to his own personal involvement with the franchise series in development.
One consolation for the executives was that they were given a special discount for their rooms above the pub due to the fact that Gawain’s uncle Rhys owned the place.
And after some initial reluctance they had even managed to let their hair down and take part in the Friday night karaoke.
After things had quietened down a bit, Louis had a one on one chat with Gawain in the quietest corner of the pub, just underneath the fixed stag head where locals liked to play ringing the bull.
“How’d you come about acquiring all those domains.”
“Foresight. I have a hunch about things.”
“Like clairvoyance?’
“No idea who she is.”
Louis took a sip of orange juice.
“Well you really hit the jackpot when you bought Digital Renegades. How did you even come across the name?”
“My uncle Gareth once made a speech at my dad’s ex-partner’s wedding; he likes to make a speech or three like when he’s mad drunk. He started to talk about how the world will be divided into digital renegades and woke overlords. He was proper steaming mind. I had no idea at the time that there was a book out there with same name. Just liked the sound of it I suppose. Went and bought all them domains up later that night.”
Louis pinched the bridge of his nose which seem to indicate to Gawain that he was proper stressed.
“The new Marvel they’re calling it.”
Gawain’s eyes literally twinkled at Louis as soon as the words left his mouth.
“I know.”
Taking pity on Louis, Gawain pushed his opened bag of crisps toward him.
“Take one. They’re pickled onion flavour.”