I swore silently to Anja that I would not let her down. No. As soon as it made sense, I would talk to this Thomas Shelby. Who knew, perhaps he would even be of value to me.
-o-
Felix – fee-licks
Favored by luck
Rhys – rhee-ss
Enthusiasm.
-o-
For my twelfth birthday, my father gave me a watch. With awe, I ran my fingers along the cool silver and the ridges of the engraving. When I clicked on the latch, the front sprung open to reveal the clock's face. The seconds hand clicked faithfully as time moved on.
"Go on and push the latch again."
Dad's green eyes gleamed at my peaked curiosity. Another click sounded as I followed his instructions. The back shell of the watch opened as well, revealing a small black and white family portrait. Mother and father stood side by side in the right of the frame; he held her open palm to his heart. To their left my two brothers held their chins up. My brother Felix, who towered over all of us, had one hand on Rhys' shoulder and another on the top of my head. My own hand in the photo was threaded into Anja's.
"It's wonderful," I whispered.
"As are you, my dear," Dad gingerly took the watch from my hands by its thin chain and clipped it back together before wrapping it into my fingers, "It's a reminder and an aid. You must always keep your time and never lose sight of your family."
"You don't need a watch to keep time, Sonja. The sun is as good as any watch."
"Mamma!" She stood in the doorway of my father's study with a warm smile, "You're up!" My father looked on with disapproval as I rushed over to bury my face in her bed gown. She smelled of sweat and sick. She also smelled like home.
-o-
I did not have to wait long for an opportunity to speak to the Shelby's. A few hours after getting back to work in the bakery, a young boy came crashing through the door, excited and out of breath.
"I've got a message for a Just Marie!" He looked expectantly at me.
I rolled my eyes unabashedly and raised a brow at the boy, "My name is Marie." He handed me a slip of paper and was gone without another word.
"What does it say?" Alice asked.
"Let's see," I responded, already knowing who had the gall to send a message to Just Marie.
'Katie's birthday celebration at the Garrison pub. 5 sharp.'
I crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash, "I've been invited to the little Shelby's party. Who has a four year old's party at a pub?"
-o-
While we were hard at work throughout the day selling baked goods and pastries, Alice explained that celebrations at the Garrison were big news in town. I asked if she would be going and she laughed, explaining that a gang's pub was no place for good people who weren't seeking trouble. She also told me that neglecting an invitation from a Shelby was like signing your reputation's death warrant. She then advised me to wear my best clothes.
The bakery couple let me off an hour early at ten until four to get ready. Much to my relief their neighbor, the butcher next door, volunteered his young teenage son to escort me to the pub. While I was good with a map, ultimately I had no clue of where the Garrison was.
The Daniels' allowed me to get ready in the small spare room that would have been mine, had they allowed me to trade work in the store for board. Wearing only my white under camisole, my knickers, and my stockings, I looked critically at my only appropriate outfit. Reluctantly, I dressed in my final fresh outfit. I damned the Shelby's; I'd never gone through three sets of clothes in a day unless at least one was a disguise.
The blouse was a sophisticated piece of cream fabric with sterling silver buttons that went from a few inches below my clavicle to the bottom of my ribs. Around my neck there was careful stitching decorating the hem with winding ivy, hand done by my mother in her youth. On each shoulder an additional silver button held the blouse in place where the straps to my camisole also fell. The sleeves were loose until my forearm, where they were tailored to fit snugly. My cuffs were stiff and they ended past my wrist, curving over my hand.
The high waist skirt was made of three layers of blue silken material and fit like a glove from my thighs up. The rest of the skirt flowed down, giving me room enough to talk. I chose to put my hair up with the sharp pin I inherited, letting a few waves spill around my face. Some women wore a lot of makeup to parties, but I had never learned with the same patience they had. Instead, I opted for only a darkish pink stain on my lips. My inky eyelashes would have to do the rest.
I had no pockets to spare so I put some small money into a palm-sized black satchel that I could leave around my wrist. As a last touch, I put a three-inch blade in the lining of one my right boot. Walking at night wasn't a thing that I was afraid of, but I by no means took it lightly. I left the room, stopping at a mirror that hung in the hallway. Looking at my mother's clothes, I couldn't help but think that this too, felt like a disguise; I was the mirage of a woman who held herself with strength and composure. However, if there was one thing about a disguise that I was comfortable with, it was playing the part.
I stuck a determined look and with a whisper said to my reflection, "Sonja, you can handle the gangsters. If you can handle aggressive London business men, this only a natural progression into more dangerous currents."
The person in the mirror nodded back at me then added less surely, "Keep your head above water."
-o-
Alice said I looked lovely and Robert advised me to be careful. I took both seriously, thanking them again for their kindness. After mentioning that I was leaving all of my luggage in their spare room, I promised that I would be back that night before it got too late and that I'd be ready to work when they opened at eight in the morning. Robert shook his head and assured me that if I were late by a few hours with a hangover, he would understand and not hold it against me. I primly assured him that he needed not worry. He only hummed in response.
At a quarter to five, the neighbor's boy Nathan showed up and bashfully offered me his arm. I graciously took it, said good-bye to my new employers, and we were on our way. On that day in June of 1920, the afternoon air just hit 20 degrees Celsius. The people of Birmingham moved through the roads without taking much notice of each other. But some of them paid mind to me.
"Are you in school, Nathan?"
"No, ma'am. I haven' been to school in a few years. 'M workin'," he said.
"It must be nice to have a family business," I smiled.
The polite smile that had been on his face dropped for a moment, "I don't work with da in the shop."
The boy followed himself up quickly with, "Where are ya from Miss?"
"Oh, what kind of work, then?" my eyes narrowed.
"I do delivery work," he said, his eyes avoiding mine, "Sometimes I work liftin'."
"Hm," I mused, "It's… interesting that you don't work for your father in the butchers shop. You must be doing a good job supporting the house. I'm sure it makes your parents proud."
He didn't respond. A couple was walking toward us on the walkway. With a smile and nod, Nathan and I passed them in silence.
"What can you tell me about the Shelby's, Nathan?"
"I don't know noffin', Miss," he insisted.
"Everyone knows something about them around here, it seems. Why so nervous?"
Once again he chose not to respond, but he did look at me with wide eyes. A few beats of time passed.
"You must worry your mother sick, working with a gang," I tsked.
"No!" he exclaimed, "She don't know, Miss Marie. You can't tell her. If I do good work fer 'em, we don't have to pay so much on the shop fer their protection."
I stopped, halting him as well, "Were you asked to bring me to the pub by your employers?"
His eyes stayed glued to the sidewalk.
I sighed, exasperated, "You know, I have half a mind to go back to the Daniels'."
"Please, don't. Tommy will be upset if I don't show up wiff ya."
Evaluating his desperate eyes, I realized I couldn't tell the kid no. I began walking again and he quickly followed suit after I tugged him by the arm.
"Thank you, Miss-"
"Don't thank me quite yet," I said, "If you don't want me to have a talk with your mother, I have a few conditions."
This seemed to scare him more than anything else, "What kind of conditions? Are you gonna to tell Tommy that I told you?"
"No, but you are," I insisted, "If you're going to work an adult job with the adult gangsters, you've also are going to be a brave adult and tell your boss these things on your own."
He looked green in the face, even in the late afternoon lighting.
"That's not my only condition," I waited for his attention and then continued, "I want two favors that I can call on whenever I need them. I'm not sure what they are yet. Do we have a deal?"
We were approaching the pub and I could see that it was already bustling with activity inside.
"Deal," he finally relented. He stopped us a few paces before the entrance and turned toward me, "You're quicker than a whip, Miss Marie."
He made me laugh; I hoped he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.
I took a coin out of my purse and slipped it into his hand, "Thank you for your help, Nathan. Try to keep out of too much trouble."
He nodded gratefully, tipped his cap, and was gone around the side of the building. I assumed he was going to find Thomas Shelby, who I felt more and more to be the leader of the family-run gang.
Ignoring the leaching eyes of the men outside the pub, I pushed through the door. The strong aroma of tobacco smoke and the clothes of working men poured through the frame. The heels of my boots clicked against the hardwood floors, which matched the bar that was surrounded by people already celebrating. Inside, there were many, many men and a surprising number of women for a bar. But of course, I reminded myself, there would be plenty of women in attendance for the birthday party.
Katie and her siblings barreled through a couple of men, weaving between them like a swarm of kittens to nip. Their small bodies ran in circles around the cake. The girl of the day spotted me and smiled shyly with a wave. I returned it as I continued to move along the room with measured steps. There were a few seats unoccupied on the bar and I slipped in quietly.
My father was not much of a drinker even after my mother died and for that I had been grateful. While working with him in the family business, I had seen many of the men who worked for him or partnered with him succumb to alcoholism. No, he did not drink in sorrow or anger, but Ellis Bray would drink in celebration. Would I drink in mourning of my father or in celebration of a new job?
"What can I get for the lady tonight?"
My attention snapped back to the bar and the smiling man behind it, "Could I please have a whiskey?"
His eyebrows shot up, "A whiskey it is." He was a gentleman easily in his late thirties with brown hair, and large ears and a nose to match. Based on his age and profession, it was likely he was a veteran like many of the workingmen in England are. He grabbed a whiskey glass and the ambrosia itself.
"It's usually surprising to people that I don't want wine or gin," I joked lightly, "My brothers taught me my love for whiskey."
His smile lifted more as he uncorked a bottle and poured my glass, "Younger or older?"
"Older," I answered as he placed it down in front of me with a coaster, "Said I couldn't play with the boys if I didn't drink with the boys."
"Aye, I have an older brother too. I know how they are," he sympathized. "You're the new woman in town, if I'm not mistaken."
With my drink in hand I gave him a conspiring look, "My name is Marie. I'm not surprised I stand out to the locals. How long have you worked at the Garrison?"
"Call me Harry. I've owned the bar even before the war. I fought in France," he replied.
"Ah, thank you for your service," I raised my glass to him, "My brothers served as well. Blessed be, you lived to see Birmingham after the war."
He quickly poured a small amount into a glass for himself, "Did your brothers get to see home?"
I smiled sadly, "I'd like to believe that they still can see home from where they are."
He raised his glass as well, "What were your brother's names?"
"Felix and Rhys," their names brought warmth to my heart even as my father's death made me cold, "I fear that there will never be another pair quite the same; they were as stupid as they were brave."
"Then to Felix and Rhys, and all the men who lived and died to see the end of the war," Harry hit the tip of his glass with mine and threw his drink back. I sipped long from my drink, my tastebuds long accustomed to the burn. Oak and burnt caramel coated my mouth. Thr glass hit its coaster again and I let out a sigh. I kept my gaze downcast until I saw more of the amber drink slosh into my glass.
"I'm a woman drinking on her own dime," I joked.
"Aye, and I am a man offering his condolences. Word has it that you're in mourning for your father," he said easily in a final tone. A man down the bar waved to the 'tender and so Harry gave me the parting words of, "Those two are on the house."
I shook my head and called after him, "Thank you, Harry."
Peering into the glass, in it's dark reflection I saw the watery look in my eyes. My drinking had always been in moderation in social settings during business and even then he'd always been watchful. Dad had poured a drink for his sons, my brothers, at their funeral in honor of their own love for whiskey. At my father's funeral I had stayed sober much to my own desire's protest. I couldn't drink for him, but I would drink to approaching justice. More whiskey slid down my throat; it was a familiar friend but that night it felt like I was committing betrayal. I wondered if he and my brothers watched over me, even then. Did I believe in an afterlife? The cold bodies of my family in caskets made me doubting my religion.
Heaving another deep sigh, I stood, turned my back on the bar and leaned on it as I surveyed the room. With a look at my watch I drew another sigh. I had woken so early that day, and though the clock had yet to strike six, I felt exhausted.
"I told Thomas to let you stay in tonight."
I jolted then, blasting myself for flinching another time that day. Bewildered, I saw a woman much older than I looking at me with incredibly steady brown eyes.
"I'm sorry?" I sputtered.
"You're the girl who caused the stir at the bakery today. I told Thomas to leave you be for the evening. Told him that he could expose you to his suspicion after a good night's rest."
"Word travels fast in Birmingham," I muttered.
"More so than where you're from?" she asked.
I shook my head and avoided the question, "That's a good point."
"'The girl' is such a title. My name's Marie," I introduced formally after a silence in which she continued to evaluate me, "Who are you?"
"Yes, Just Marie as my nephews have told me," she sipped on a drink and I instinctively mimicked her actions, "Polly." She was one of them. Was she here on Thomas Shelby's request?
"Well, Polly," I started, "Thanks for trying reason with him. I know the stubborn types, though."
One side of her mouth quirked up, "Yes, so do I."
"Let's 'ave some fuckin' cake!" a man yelled with a knife clutched in his fist. He was wearing a cap like the ones that John and Thomas Shelby wore and his haircut was similar as well. People around the room hooted in agreement. From the sea of people, John emerged with Katie perched on one of his arms.
"Watch yer fuckin' mouth 'round my kids, Arthur!" John gave the man a good shove with his free arm and set Katie on top of a stool near the cake. She wore a sweet pink dress and a white bow in her hair. Her father took the knife from Arthur and helped Katie cut the first several pieces of cake. The room burst into more cheers. Beyond the shoulders of some men, I could see Thomas Shelby leaning against a wall, like a guardian of the Garrison. He, like some of the others, wore his hat indoors. Even in the shadow of his cap's rim, I could see his blue eyes peering back at me. It was a family celebration and he was on the dim edges of the pub, which I took note of.
"Aren't you going to get some cake?" Polly asked. She had been watching Thomas, as I had, and raised her eyebrow at me.
I shook my head, "I've been off my appetite."
I couldn't decide if Polly was there for his sake or if she had approached me on her own motive. Even with limited exposure, I realized the powerful family was an enigma. Breaking away from her gaze and looking out at the crowd, a sudden thought occurred to me, "Shouldn't there be more children at a children's party?"
From the corner of my eye, I saw another brunette approach us with purpose.
"By now you probably have some sense of the Shelby reputation," her eyes found the children, "Many parents keep their children away."
"Except for the drunk down the road," the woman's voice rang through the noise of the bar. She had high cheekbones and a pointed chin, which was resting gently atop the head of the small infant cradled in her arms, "He doesn't give a damn what his kids do so long as they are home when he wakes from his stupor. Speaking of, I don't see the twins tonight."
"Ada," Polly greeted, "I thought you were going to bring Karl home."
With care, Ada adjusted the hat on Karl. She snuck a meaningful glance at me, "I was on my way out when Arthur began yapping about the storm Tommy has been brewing over your friend."
"She's not my friend," Polly said easily, "Ada, this is Marie."
Polly's distance did not surprise me. I managed a weary grin, "Pleased to meet you."
"Please, you'd rather be anywhere but here," Ada retorted, "I don't blame you, either."
"Sounds like you empathize," I nodded to her and sipped from my glass.
"They're my brothers," she said flippantly, "Of course I empathize."
I scoffed, "Brothers. A right bunch of pains in our asses, no?" We shared a chuckle.
Her eyes traveled across my face and to my clothes before returning to my face again, "You aren't so bad, I don't know what Tommy is fussin' about." Karl gurgled impatiently, capturing all of our attention immediately.
"He's awfully cute," I said ducking my head down to grin at him.
Ada's face split into a large smile and she peered down adoringly at her son, "He looks a lot like his da."
"Speaking of which, where is the devil?" Polly asked.
"He and Tommy are catching up," she rolled her eyes, but not in poor sport, "If you're ever worried about your brother killing your lover, elope in secret, Marie. It has worked wonders for me." When I dared to look back to where Thomas had been, he was gone.
"I don't think I'll have to worry about that," I said, "But thank you for the tip."
The baby gave another squawk and Ada clicked her tongue affectionately.
"I've got to be off. Aunt Pol, try to see that Freddie is out of here before he lets my idiot brothers drink him under the table," they kissed cheeks and then she threw a few parting words to me, "Good luck."
I watched her retreating back, taking another note of the people who respectfully tipped their hats to her as she made her way out.
"Will I need the luck?" I wondered out loud.
"That depends on what your intentions are," Polly said.
There was a dark edge in her voice. Polly was a family woman, clearly. I finished my whiskey with a last swing. My limbs were numbing as the alcohol worked through my veins.
With my glass placed back into the bar for Harry, I reached into my small purse and pulled out a few extra coins for him. His generosity was welcome, but I also understood the challenges of running a business.
"Thanks for keeping me company," I offered to the astute woman still by my side, "The last few weeks have been incredibly long. This hasn't exactly been small talk, but it has been…" I trailed off uncertainly. What had it been? Nice wasn't the right word.
"Refreshing," I decided, "Have a good night."
She nodded and kept her eyes on me as I began threading through the crowd of the party. I made small talk with several people, most of their names escaping me through one ear right after it entered the other. That evening I found that there were men in Birmingham who thought I was worth spending some extra money for a drink. After the first two offers I politely turned down the advances.
Birmingham was a place of habit. There was a stark difference in the way that the locals interacted with each other in comparison to how they addressed me. The guests of the party called each other by their names and asked of their husbands, wives, children, sisters, brothers, and parents. Small business owners shared stories of pesky customers and clumsy employees. The contrast between the day and night in Birmingham was as strong as the summer juxtaposed to winter. Whereas work kept people busy in the day, the night welcomed the worn citizens of Birmingham to unwind. The booze surely helped, too.
They didn't get new available women around those parts often. The fraternization of men was not lost on me and while I did let them down softly with distancing steps, apologetic smiles, and maintained lighthearted conversations, I knew that anyone who thought they may be able to woo me would return home disappointed. I wasn't a stranger to sharing a heated night. There had been a time in my life that I found distraction from my hollow life in the beds of many men- and women. The death of my father marked the end of that stage in my life. Flesh lust had been pushed back into one of the closets in my brain.
The scorching desire for revenge lit my mind at every waking moment. My dreams reflected this. Men were distractions and I was determined to reach a goal. One day Birmingham would be far behind me.
Close to eight o' clock people began dancing and while I wouldn't take part with mind for the four whiskeys I consumed, I did clap along jovially to the music that a few fiddlers were playing for the crowd. Laughter hit the bar in waves, particularly when Katie dragged John Junior out to dance with her. With most of the eyes on them, I decided to take a break outside.
It was pleasant to find myself alone in my own company under the indigo nighttime sky that had fallen. Through the smoke of Birmingham I could see stars twinkling far, far beyond me. My back hit the exterior wall of the Garrison and I took out my watch again. Clicking the latch twice, I looked at the faces of my family with the help of the dim light coming from the windows of the bar. Anja's face disappeared below the pad of my thumb and I heaved a shaky sigh.
The sound of gravel crunching had me closing the watch and slipping it back into my purse promptly.
"I was wondering when you'd give me some of your time," I breathed into the night.
A wind howled through the street but he didn't utter a word.
"You sent a child to get me," I said.
"He's old enough to walk a stranger to his local pub," Thomas Shelby replied.
"Do you know how old he is?" I asked. He didn't reply. I kept my eyes glued to the sky, "He doesn't yet seem like a young man. He didn't even have the fire to tell a stranger that his life and his livelihood are none of her concern."
"He does it for his family."
"His mother doesn't know," my voice was defiant, "When you play with his life, you are playing with hers as well."
"You were right before," he replied, "His life is none of your concern."
"Ahh," I looked at him finally, concentrating on the orange ember at the end of his cigarette, "But it is yours."
His cap was gone and his eyes glowed. The hollows of his cheeks became more prominent as he took a deep drag. His eyes remained cool as ever, "Are you enjoying the party?"
I laughed sardonically, "I'd rather be enjoying a good night's sleep. But yes, the people here made sure to welcome me." A craving spiked in my chest, spurring an impulse. He was so still as I carefully reached out toward him. With his eyes on mine, I slipped the cigarette out of his hands and into my fingers. I drew from it for a few long moments and blew the smoke above the both of us.
"Why did you ask me here, Mr. Shelby?" He took out a cigarette case to get another for himself after my casual theft.
He lit the end in a fluid motion, "Why did you come to Birmingham?"
"More of this," I scoffed, "I'm not sure why that would possibly be any of your business- or my living arrangements for that matter. Mr. Daniels told me that the Shelby's would be coordinating lodging for me. If you haven't already set that up, I'll be heading back to their residence." My blood boiled as I finished the stoge, threw it to the ground, and stubbed it out with my toe. When I pushed off the wall and tried to walk off, his arm shot out like a bullet and snatched up my elbow.
"You haven't grasped how Small Heath works yet. Why," he spat with quiet venom, "Did you come to Birmingham?"
Bewildered at the audacity of his touch, I leaned closer to him and put my hand over his, digging my fingers into his flesh, "All you need to know is that I won't be here for long. Now get your fucking hands off of me."
He let me go, and I took two stumbling steps away from him.
The whiskey had empty laughter bubbling from my mouth and tears prickling at my eyes, "With this welcome, it's a wonder why I'd want to leave Birmingham. But trust me, Thomas Shelby; as soon as I can, I'll be out of your hair."
He breathed loudly and ran his hands over his scalp. His cigarette hung from his mouth, trembling with each deep heave of his chest. He was watching me again. And I was watching him.
"We set up a room above the pub for you," Thomas said in a low voice. If he noticed my glassy eyes, he at the least had the common decency not to mention it.
"I don't have the money to be paying for board," I said, "Working for board was the most economic choice for me."
"You say you won't be staying for long," he replied.
"I'm staying until I'm done," I shot back. It was becoming clear as the conversation continued that I would need to switch tactics. If the way he grabbed me was any indicator, it was in my best interest to provide him with something. Just enough.
"And what are you going to do?" he asked.
"Anything that I have to," I clutched my watch in the coin purse, "I do it for my family. If you're wondering why I won't just hand you more information, you should know that it could put them in danger."
Hearing his own words reflected back at him caught him off guard. The wild in his eyes subsided. As I waited for his reply I committed his expression to memory. His mouth pursed and his brows furrowed for a split second.
Then he nodded, and more smoke pooled from his mouth, "The board is free of charge."
I balked, "Nothing is free, Mr. Shelby."
"Your bags have already been moved into the room," he muttered, gesturing past him and toward the corner of the Garrison. Of course they had! They might as well have been waving their cocks around with a gun in their free hand.
My teeth grabbed onto the inside of my cheeks as I held on to the words that wanted to burst out of me. We didn't speak as he showed me around the building to one of two back doors. When he unlocked it with an old key, it opened to reveal a staircase with a hallway at the top. Looking at him with disdainful uncertainty, I only began the trek up the stairs after another cue from him. There wasn't any noise on the second floor of the pub, but I could hear the festivities of Katie's birthday below us.
When we both hit the second landing, his hand fell to the small of my back. He led me to one of the six doors in the hallway and used his free hand to open it for me.
A single candle was already burning and waiting for our arrival. The room was mostly bare, but it was equip with a four-post canopy bed adorned with blue curtains, a dresser, and an armoire with a mirror and chair. A modest table and a set of chairs were wedged between two doors, one was open revealing a private loo and the other was a small closet. On the white sheets of the bed sat my two bags. There was no kitchen unit. Fine lace window curtains were drawn back to reveal the street below where the Garrison entrance was.
"I hope it's to your liking."
Thomas Shelby only took a handful of paces into the room, leaving me wide berth. In the dim light of the room, the angles of his handsome face were more prominent than ever.
"To my liking?" I echoed, "This room is lovely. The Daniels also had a good room that I could have stayed in."
"Aye, but that opportunity is long past, isn't it?"
I shot him a look, "I suppose so, but only because of your paranoia." Pulling my pin from my hair and letting it fall down my back, I tossed it and my purse onto the bed and faced him with my hands on my hips.
"Thank you," I pulled several strands of hair away from my face, "This is an incredibly invasive sense of hospitality you have. I'm not entirely ungrateful."
He took another drag from his cigarette and pointed at me lackadaisically, "Is Marie your name?"
"You aren't a great conversationalist, are you?"
"Answer the question," he said pointedly.
"Mr. Shelby, from the moment we met this afternoon… you and I both knew that my name is not Just Marie," I tilted my head at him, "However, I won't give you my name."
"And why not?"
"It could jeopardize what I am here to accomplish," I stated. Thomas Shelby's eyes were burning into mine but he did not press me further.
"Even if you hadn't walked into the bakery, I would know of you. This town whispers of the Shelby's. The Peaky Blinders, they call you. To me it sounds like you know everyone in this town. That's information that I would find invaluable," I admitted.
"And now?" he closed much of the distance between us, "Is it still invaluable?"
"Absolutely," I shrugged, aware of his distracting proximity, "The person I'm looking for went missing years ago. Finding out what happened to her means more to me than my own life."
"But?" He offered me another cigarette. I took it and allowed him to light it for me.
I smirked, "But now I'm not so sure I like you. Frankly, you piss me off."
Despite himself, he made a sound that was between a scoff and a chuckle, and shook his head in disbelief, "Where in the hell did you come from."
"Don't say it like such a bad thing, Mr. Shelby," I said, "You might find that you miss it when I return to where I came from."
"I doubt it, Marie."
I huffed at him, dispelling a ton of smoke from my lungs in the process, "Oh yes, I can tell my visit to Birmingham is going to be just lovely." We shared several moments of silence.
"I should let you sleep," he stepped away and then out of the door.
Following him closely, I held out my hand expectantly, "Might I have the keys?"
Without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and laid them into my palm. Our hands touched and I gulped. His hands were warm and calloused. His jaw flexed and he nodded again before disappearing down the hall and then the stairs. Doing my due diligence, I closed and locked the heavy wooden door. I was alone with my cigarette and the single candle that lit the room.
Ada had mentioned that John's kids were friends with a set of twins who had a drunkard father. How common were twins? Clearing my bed, I decided that I would start my search there.
-o-
Authors note.
I am incredibly humbled by the follows, favorites, and reviews that you all have given me. Thank you so much for your support. I hope that this chapter serves you all well. Also, I'd like to give a friendly reminder that if one of my chapters reaches 10 reviews before I release the next chapter, I will randomly select one reviewer to receive an exclusive sneak peek of what is to come. Guests to the site who leave reviews are also eligible for this opportunity if they leave a contact option at the bottom of their review.
Well Wishes Until Next Time, Rem
Review responses.
mickeymouseftw – I hope you're enjoying the unfolding story of our main character and that this update finds you well. Thank you for being my first reviewer, you'll always be dear to me now. ;)
ktlv – Much more is to come for Tommy and my OC. Please stick around to read all about their building relationship. Thanks for your review!
LadyRedStar – Thomas isn't just itching, he's burning. We'll see how long the little bit of information she's given him staves him off from pestering her again. Probably not long. Thanks for reviewing.
waterlily91 – I'll be posting updates every two weeks if all goes according to plan! May this "more" curb your hunger for now. Thanks for leaving me a review!
Chloe – Thanks for reviewing my first chapter. How is this second chapter serving you?
ValarMorghulisDohaeris – I'm incredibly flattered by your review. I hope to maintain the quality you've described! This chapter was admittedly much more challenging to write than the last. This WILL follow the show, but I've yet to decide how closely it will follow the show. I just finished watching season 3, so I've got a lot to stew on…
burgessinthestreets – Trust me… it's been 10 days since I posted the last chapter and I've been playing around with possibilities for these characters since- and long before. I'm glad that you are enjoying the background story that I'm working on! The first several chapters will take place between the first and second season so we'll be focusing a lot on the OC's story line. It's a story line that I am buzzing to write and get to you all. Thank you for your review!
Guest (1) – Thanks for reviewing my first chapter! If you look at the top of the story, you'll see a picture of the woman that I imagine my OC looking like.
Guest (2) – I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Thank you for your review.