Harry: “Hello, Miss. (Y/L/N), this is Visa Fraud Prevention with a courtesy call. I am calling you to confirm the five-hundred and fifty thousand pound deduction from your account a little before noon today.” Your eyes grow wide at the woman’s words. “Excuse me?” Is all you can get out. “That amount was deducted from your shared account a little while ago. I tried to reach the cardholder, but there was no answer and we are required to call all parties associated with the account, especially with amounts as large as this.” “You have got to be shitting me,” you say outloud, not meaning for your harsh words to escape your thoughts. “Do you know where the card was swiped?” You question, trying to figure out if indeed the money was meant to be missing from your account. “It looks like it was swiped in Surrey, a Richard Stewart Williams Limited? But he transferred the money from a cash machine at Barclays in London.” Surrey? Harry had left for the day, but he didn’t say anything about going to Surrey. Not to mention you had no idea who Richard Stewart Williams even was. “I looked it up, and it looks like he sells classic cars.” There is it. The connection. The five-hundred and fifty thousand pound connection. You sigh loudly into the phone. “Okay, yeah. I can confirm that. I don’t really want to, but yeah, everything is fine.” Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose as you let the fact that your bank account was now missing over a half a million pounds. “Alright, we just wanted to check and make sure.” She sounded so peppy. How could you be peppy? Does she not feel sorry for your bank account? You sure did. “Thank you for calling,” you tell her before you hang up, your eyes shut as you try to take in deep breaths, resisting the urge to call him this very second. You take a few more deep breaths before pulling the phone back up to you. “Hey!” His cheerful voice greets you. Stay calm. It’s his money. And your money. No, it’s his money. He would never spend your money even though both of your names are on the joint account. His money. Calm. “Are you shitting me!?” So much for calm. “Whoa, what’s the matter?” He questions, your anger catching him off guard. “Five-hundred and fifty thousand pounds? Harry Styles are you insane?!” You hear him chuckle over the line. “Did the fraud lady call you again?” He jokes. “Harry this isn’t funny. That’s a shit ton of money for a car you won’t even drive.” “I’ll be driving it back from Surrey,” he counters proudly. “Harry!” You whine, he wasn’t understanding you at all; he didn’t want to. “Babe, it’s fine.” “No it isn’t!” You interject. “Yes, yes it is. You’re acting like I spent five million.” “You might as well have,” you say, your voice starting to calm. You had always cringed at his lavish spending, especially when it was cars. You understood his love for cars, but when was he ever home to drive any of them? The Range Rover got most of the use but everything else just sat in a parking garage. This one would be no different. “You’ve really got to quit it with the whole buying cars you don’t need, it’s just a waste.” You’re trying so hard to get him to see where you’re coming from. The two of you had enough expenses to deal with without him adding more which in turn left less in your bank account. You had preached ‘the future’ to him and he only laughed. He had plenty of money for the future, and so did his eventual kids and grandchildren, so he never quite got your money saving spiel. You had never been brought up on the ‘you like it, you buy it’ idea, and to be honest neither had Harry. But he had earned his right to do so, so for the most part you let him even though you cringed when the statements came in every month. He had the money to cover it, for now. The line is silent, he would never call his exquisite car collection a waste, no matter how little he got to spend in their driver’s seats. “Last one for a while, I promise,” he says, finally giving in. He knew how much you hated his spending habits, and even though it only made him laugh at how cute you were when you were ‘considering his future’ he never liked to do something that blatantly upset you. “Thank you.” The line falls silent yet again, but you know what’s coming. “Go ahead and tell me what you got,” you say, knowing he was dying to tell you about his outlandish purchase. “You’re going to love it babe, trust me,” he begins, the obvious excitement in his tone. “You’ve said that about the last four,” you remind him. “I know, but this one is it!” You laugh, he was such a child. “It’s a fifty-nine DB4.” “An Aston?” You question, your eyes lighting up and a wide smile stretching across your face. A classic. “Yeah, don’t think I forgot how much you love Astons.” You shake your head and chuckle. “Continue, tell me about it.” “It’s forest green with black hide and grey carpet. It has a GT, twin-plug, five litre engine. The axle has been rebuilt and upgraded along with the handling and brakes.” He continued on to tell you about the electric cooling fans and high efficiency water radiator like a kid in a candy store. You could only credit him though; he had excellent taste in motor vehicles.
