How We Breathe - Pinback

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground - The White Stripes

Climbing Up the Walls - Radiohead

Chapter Four

Grace pushed the glass door to her and Michael's office open and rolled her eyes when she saw him sleeping with his feet up on his marble-topped desk, passed out even with their Monday morning playlist on full blast from his iMac. Grace sighed when she heard the song that was playing, she had liked it once. Every song they put on the playlist they ended up hating by Monday-association until they took it off, Grace wasn't sure why they even tried anymore.

Grace kicked Michael's desk as she threw her Kate Spade bag onto her own, they weren't very far apart in the office meant for one. When the new Shelby Bros. Ltd. building had opened a year ago, Tommy had graced his two main accountants with separate offices. But they'd missed each other and working in the same room, and they texted each other all day anyway, so Michael and Grace decided to merge offices after a long night of working late. Whiskeys, fatigue, and poor traction had made moving the heavy furniture difficult, a massive hole in the hallway to prove it. Grace's stocking feet had slid and Michael's desk had slammed into the wall, cracking through the navy paint of the accounting floor's hallway. Michael had jokingly hung a gold picture frame around the hole, commemorating it forever.

"Something funny?" Michael said, yawning and sliding on a pair of Ray-Bans, even though it was 8:00 in the morning.

"God, you're like Arthur. We have morning meeting in 30 minutes. I brought you a coffee." Setting Michael's Starbucks on his desk, Grace kicked his desk again just for emphasis before looking down at her vibrating phone. Speaking of Arthur, she thought.

ARTHUR: Can you close the Garrison tonight? Caitlin called out. Please Grace? I have Lily tonight or else I'd do it myself.

Grace started to complain to herself but immediately felt bad for doing so. Arthur almost never saw his 4-year-old daughter Lily, his divorce hadn't left him on the better end of a custody agreement. It wasn't a surprise at the time, but now he deserved far more time with the little ray of sunshine than he got.

GRACE: Of course I will. I can be there by 5:30. Are you coming in today?

ARTHUR: You're the best. I owe you. I'll be in the office midday, I gotta open. Cait was a fucking double, of course. Call me during morning meeting and put it on speakerphone. Love you sister.

GRACE: Love you too.

Grace cocked her head as she sat down, covering her annoyance with a smile. "Your little girlfriend called out of a double shift today, again."

"Not my girlfriend. And it's probably because I kept her up late." Michael winked and threw a balled up receipt at Grace, who swatted it back towards him.

"Gross, I have to cover for her now so thanks for that. When does your mom fly in this morning?" Her voice was light. Too light.

"11. You sound excited." Michael gave her his barely-there smirk before turning his attention to his phone.

Grace said nothing. If Polly was in the office she would most likely head to the Garrison earlier than 5:30. Perhaps sometime around 11.

Grace logged into her iMac, a picture of the whole family on vacation in Bali from last year flooding her desktop screen, all tans and smiles. It was right after they went legal, and for most them, it was their first actual vacation. The Peaky Blinders had taken off for two weeks for the first time in 9 years with a beach house, a yacht, and more alcohol than was probably safe. Celebrating the danger finally passing. At least that's what they told themselves it was, in order to justify doing nothing but getting liver damage in the sun for two weeks, which some of the boys had decided to turn into three.

Grace opened the accounting database and started organizing everything she needed to show Tommy this morning, making sure she didn't forget anything. For some reason intuition told her to be on top of things today. Michael did the same, their brief but comfortable silence covered up by their playlist moving on to the next song. Her iPhone buzzed once more and she flashed her eyes in irritation. Between the jet lag, now having to bartend until midnight, and the pile of emails she had to answer, Monday was living up to its reputation. Thankfully it was Tommy, and Grace exhaled with a little noise, to which Michael knowingly rolled his eyes and mimicked her, "gross", previously directed at him.

"Your Irish accent is a tragedy"

"The real tragedy here is that that it's been 8 years and you and Tommy are still in your bloody honeymoon phase." Michael muttered, squinting at his screen again.

Grace laughed and opened Tommy's message, ignoring the group chat that was beginning to buzz with what Grace could only assume was either John and Meghan fighting because they were in separate rooms, or Finn taking a poll on whether he should skip class or not.

MR. SHELBY: Where are you?

GRACE: In my office. Why?

MR. SHELBY: Come to the board room before everyone gets here. I have to tell you something.

GRACE: Five minutes.

Grace logged off, finishing her Starbucks before picking her bag up and walking around her desk. "I'm going to meet Tommy, I'll see you in twenty." Michael made some kind of noise of recognition, brow furrowed as he stared at his spreadsheets.

Four flights of stairs later, having knocked at least 30 squats off of this evening's workout, Grace swung the door to the Shelby conference room open and strolled to the far end of their iconic oval meeting table, eyes on Tommy the whole time. Back to her, the blood-red silk of his suit vest was the only color against his white shirt, black hair, and the fog rising from the river outside as he gazed out the window. Grey mornings were Tommy's favorite.

Grace tossed her bag on her chair and ran up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist, tightening them slightly as he sighed. They swayed back and forth for a few moments until Grace broke the silence.

"So…"

"So." Tommy spun her around and kissed her before picking her up and setting her on the conference table. "I have to tell you something."

Grace leaned back and looked into her favorite blues, which looked like they were not carrying good news. She raised her freshly waxed eyebrows expectantly, squeezing Tommy's arms.

Tommy ticked his jaw and looked down at her for a moment. Thankfully he wasn't one for small talk and got to the point. "I need you, Meghan, and Ada to entertain Georgina Fairchild while they're in town next week."

Grace dropped her arms from him and leaned back on the table even more, pushing him away from her with her heel digging into his muscular leg. "What?" she hissed. "Thomas fucking Michael-"

Grabbing her ankle in his hand, Tommy was clearly trying to stifle his laughter at her attitude which made Grace even more annoyed. "I know, I know. It's three days. That's it, I promise. Ada can do most of the entertaining, I already ran it by her. Just show your face once or twice, take her shopping, get her drunk at the Garrison, fuckin' whatever."

"Teach her how to respect other people's relationships, cut her, spend all my time trying to keep her away from you, fuckin' whatever" Grace mocked.

"Gracie," Tommy's shook his head in half warning, half amusement "This is important. If it goes well it'll be the last time we have to deal with these people in person, alright?"

"Fine. But I don't want her in our house, Thomas." Grace said, her own warning in her sharp eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Tommy grabbed her other ankle, anticipating the need to defend himself against her Jimmy Choos again in a moment. "That's kind of the other thing…I may or may not have offered up our guest rooms to accommodate them." He said it sheepishly, like a boy, and if Grace hadn't wanted to smack him she (maybe) would have smiled.

"Fucking what?" Grace attempted to slide off the conference table to dig her heels in again but Tommy held her away by her shoes, failing to hold in a chuckle this time as she seethed in what he liked to call 'Gracie rage', which was Tommy's very irritating comparison to his own version of rage. "Don't you laugh at me right now Thomas Michael, I swear to god you will sleep on the couch until I feel comfortable looking at pictures of Michael Cera. You of all people know how far away that day is." She said, managing to yank her ankles out of his grip as he laughed harder, pressing her shoes to his chest as she leaned farther back onto her elbows.

The view of herself that Grace was now providing distracted Tommy for only a second, but at least he stopped laughing. He inhaled sharply, looking down at her, and his voice was almost a whisper. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, listen. Georgina is irrelevant after this, alright? Alright? This is about her father, and grandfather, wanting to invest 3 million fucking dollars in exchange for us letting them store money in an account with us. American corporations store their money in offshore accounts so they're exempt from the American tax laws in the-"

"She's already irrelevant, and I know how it works," Grace spat. She felt slightly guilty for being snarky to her fiancé, but at least the spark in his usually icy eyes reminded her that he was enjoying it. "Who's handling these accounts, me or Michael?"

"Both of you."

Grace sat up a little, sliding her shoes down his vest slowly as they stared at each other in a stalemate, the rain that was now pattering on the windows the only sound. 3 million dollars was a lot of money for one account, and at the end of the day this was unfortunately about business that she would be responsible for. "Is this legal Tommy? I don't care but I want to know."

"All of it. If the corporation ever goes down it doesn't matter, this money will still have been legal money and it's not ours anyway." Tommy said, his voice lowering further as he slid his hands down her calves, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin.

Grace said nothing, sitting up completely to brush off the dusty streak her shoes had left behind on Tommy's vest. He took her hands away and held them tightly in front of him, smirking slightly as Grace failed to hide her increasingly softening expression. It would be worth it. It was always worth it. Grace gave up the fight for good with a groan as Tommy leaned her backwards on the conference table and kissed her neck, murmuring into her skin. "I have some very generous and carnal ideas about how to make up for your troubles, Mrs. Shelby."

Grace laughed and wrapped her legs around Tommy's waist, ankles crossing. "Now for that, Mr. Shelby, I'll entertain my new best friend Georgina. I still have my acting skills I'm sure." Tommy snickered and bit her ear.

"Oh, I don't think anyone doubts that." An easily recognizable clipped voice rang from the doorway and Tommy's head snapped up. Grace didn't bother turning around, and stared at the ceiling like it was a camera on The Office as she reluctantly untangled her legs from around Tommy's body. While doing so, she thought about all the ways she was going to kill Michael for not knowing how to read.

Clearing his throat, Tommy stepped away from Grace after running a hand over his face. "Pol. Flight was good?"

"Super. Not as good as your morning, though, so it seems. Or at least as good as it was about to be. Apologies."

Grace smoothed her hair and turned around, smiling at the Shelby matriarch and shoving her attitude down deep for Tommy's sake. Good lord did he owe her. "Aunt Pol. Good to see you."

"Of course. Great shoes. Might want to check your top button though. Representing the company and whatnot." Polly gave her a once over with a cocked brow and her special pursed smile that she saved just for Grace before turning her attention to Tommy, hopefully for good. "Thomas, please tell me you saw my email."

Grace literally bit her tongue as she buttoned her blouse and gladly tuned out their conversation, staring out the window before dragging her bag towards her. Grace pulled out her phone and opened the "PEAKY FUCKIN' BLINDERS" group chat, ignoring the 37 unread messages in it that she missed.

GRACE: Michael, dearest. As I think of all the ways I could kill you with my bare hands, just wanted to inform you that your mother has arrived far earlier than you mentioned she would.

MEGHAN: Fuck. What, you're not happy to see our best friend? I'll be there soon so the hatred can be split more evenly between the two of us.

MICHAEL: She doesn't hate either of you and you know it, don't say shit like that. But yeah, it appears that I read the number wrong. I'm on my way up to buffer.

ADA: Good, thank god you don't literally read numbers for a living.

GRACE: ^Point. How does an accountant mix up 8:30 and 11?

MICHAEL: Let's call it jet lag? I'm guessing by your level of sass that 1: you need another coffee, which I just got, no need to thank me, and 2: she cockblocked you and Tommy. She's always been a pro at that shit. I think she senses sin.

ISIAH: Speaking of which, someone remind me to hide the bong later before she comes over to check up on her precious baby's flat. She probably sensed it as soon as she got off the plane anyway but it's worth a try. We should've fucking cleaned. I'm parking I'll be up in five.

ISIAH: By the way Michael your girlfriend left shortly after you did this morning and she was wearing your favorite joggers #karma

MICHAEL: SHE IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND.

FINN: Not what I heard you calling her through the bloody wall last night. I hid the bong already. I'm skipping class to come bathe in the tension.

GRACE: Finn don't you dare.

FINN: Can't hear you, I'm going through a tunnel.

ADA: Oh honestly.

JOHN: This is going to be glorious.

ISIAH: WHO KEEPS STEALING MY FUCKING PARKING SPACE

SCUD: Me, youngblood. Glad to know you're observant. Been driving the same car, that you've been in multiple times might I add, for a year now. You wouldn't last in the wild.

Grace laughed, Scudboat rarely contributed but when he did he made it count. Tommy, no doubt feeling the incessant buzzing of his phone in its usual home of his front pocket, looked away from Pol to raise a brow at Grace who felt his gaze and smiled back with her most innocent smile. Knowing her better far than that, he snorted before turning his attention back to his Aunt and their paperwork.

Grace tuned them out as their conversation hushed and switched to Romani, tapping her pen on her teeth as she double-checked her figures for the week. Michael came in minutes later and squeezed Grace's shoulder, dropping off her iced coffee and giving her his best attempt at a sympathetic look before going to greet his mother with his best attempt at an excited one.

The rest of the Peaky Blinders trickled in slowly, in ones and twos, the room growing louder as the oxblood leather chairs filled with bodies. Finn walked in with his backpack on and headphones around his neck, avoiding Grace and Ada's disapproving stares, hugging Pol and explaining to her and Tommy that his class had been cancelled. Grace rolled her eyes at hearing his lie, knowing he would be caught within the hour. Finn plopped down at the end of Grace's row, smiling while leaning forward to mouth don't snitch, Burgess. Grace placed a hand on her heart and shook her head slowly in mock disappointment, answering with a silent didn't I teach you anything?

Finn's face scrunched in confusion and John snapped his fingers at him to get his attention. Throwing his toothpick at his younger brother, he mouthed group chat, motherfucker with a cocky grin, and Finn's rosy face turned white. Every one of them had forgotten Tommy was in the group chat at least once, with varying consequences, because he never said anything. Meghan covered her laughter with her hand as Finn knocked his forehead on the table repeatedly, lie sitting in the phone of his tuition-paying older brother.

Grace turned away from her conversation with Ada with a smile, catching Michael buttoning his suit jacket anxiously as he left Tommy and his mother to take his seat next to Grace, jaw like a rock as he glanced her at quickly. Grace opened her mouth to ask but he cut her off, his muttering falling beneath the louder chatter. "I need to talk to you."

Michael rarely sounded concerned about anything, and his voice was strained. Tommy's face showed nothing, nor did Polly's, but Grace didn't expect them to. Grace hid her stress just as easily while Tommy commanded attention at the head of the table, wishing she could call in his carnal favors right about now, maybe on a yacht in Bali.

Grace watched Tommy press his fingers to his temples, blinking at the piece of paper on his desk. Michael nudged the skipping Radiohead vinyl on Tommy's antique turntable for the 3rd time and the dark melody repeated, again. Grace had saved 3 weeks of tips from the Garrison to buy it for his birthday 4 years ago. The shopkeeper had been terrified of her, Thomas Shelby's girl, and tried to give it to her for free in his broken English, not understanding that Grace didn't want the gift unless she paid for it. Grace had to get John and Arthur to come with her to make the man accept her money, it took her almost half an hour to convince the two brothers that she was serious. Forcing someone to make a Blinder pay for something. A first for them all. But today Grace caught herself wishing it was turned off. Tommy's thinking music was equal parts ominous and anxiety inducing.

"Tom…" Polly started, but was stopped when her nephew released his pressure point to lift his hand in her direction, cutting her off without words

Grace caught Polly's eye and they exchanged a fleeting but mutual grimace before her eyes flicked to Michael, turned away from them now as he poured himself a whiskey. Tommy threw back his own before clearing his throat and swearing to himself.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to fucking do. The Fairchild's cannot know that we know this." Tommy's voice was low as his eyes bored into those of the three Peaky Blinders standing in his office one at a time, slate gray, to blue, to brown. "We have a week before they come here to sign the papers. It's plenty of time to get out in front of them and change the fine print in our favor. If we don't let on, their lawyer might not look at the contract again. We turn it around on them, and fuck them harder than they tried to fuck us."

"That's risky, Thomas. Why aren't we just refusing to bloody sign it? We can back out of the deal, no harm, no foul. Must we still live in the world of fucking people over?" Polly asked, her truth resounding off the walls as she said what Michael and Grace didn't want to say.

Tommy shook her words out of his head slowly, temples flexing as he clenched his jaw in time like a pulse, still staring at the piece of paper that sat on top of his never-ending pile. "It's doable. It's legal. We can get away with it, it'll put us 4 years ahead in projections and progress, in charge of New York City, and it'll give us political power. We can get away with it."

"Fucking Christ, Tommy." Polly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, resting her elbow on Tommy's black granite bookshelves that were built into the walls of his office.

Grace said nothing, caught between Polly's voice of reason and Tommy's voice of ambition. Their ambition. He was right, they could get away with it. The legal world was the exact same chess game as the illegal one they used to be masters of, the only thing that was different were the chess pieces. Vocabulary of legality, contracts, lawyers, fine print, and last but not least, the king of the legal world, loopholes. King takes King. Checkmate.

Polly received an anonymous fax before she boarded her flight last night, warning the Shelby's about a turnover of epic proportions being planned by the Fairchild family. Grace had almost laughed when Tommy filled her in 10 minutes ago, thinking that an anonymous fax was a cheap ruse. But by the sound of things, it wasn't.

The fax was short and vague, hinting solely that the Shelby's shouldn't trust the Fairchild's, their lawyer, nor should they sign their impending business agreement. The attack was completely legal, hidden in the fine print of accounting details, and would completely liquidate Shelby Bros. Ltd.'s assets within the next two years. Grace swallowed the taste of metal back down her throat. Nasty business.

It was Grace's turn to press a hand to her temple as she turned and walked to Tommy's granite bar. She wasn't normally one to indulge in the morning, it was only 10 A.M., but today was already calling for it.

"It could be bullshit. Grace and I don't get the final accounting contracts faxed to us until the day before they're supposed to be signed. We have no way of knowing until the fucking day before?" Michael said, Grace heard his footsteps cross the floor to Tommy's desk, probably reading the fax for the hundredth time. Grace's mind worked while she made Polly and Tommy fresh whiskeys as well. She balanced the three tumblers easily in her experienced hands as she turned around, shaking her head.

"If it's a fake-out, and the contract is sound, only an outside party would benefit from us not signing it, so they could have the Fairchild accounts for themselves. If they're not crossing us, Patrick wouldn't want anyone to know. No one knows the details of the deal except the four of us in this room, and their family, and all of us would want to keep it a secret if the Fairchild's meant well." Grace said, handing Tommy his whiskey first. His eyes were far away, but his thumb rubbed her hand before he broke away to turn and look out the window.

"Well, people do love to snitch." Polly said, her signature pursed smile aimed at Grace pointedly as she took the whiskey from her, which Grace now regretted pouring.

"Pol. Not. Now." Tommy growled.

Grace laughed and she saw Tommy tense knowingly, anticipating what usually followed this particular laugh of hers. Grace was in no mood. "I'm quite positive that my fiancé doesn't want to liquidate his own company, neither does your son, who is to be second-in-command within three years. As for me, since that's what you're playing at, I found out about the details of the Fairchild deal two hours ago. My window of time for snitching doesn't exist, although I'm sure you wish it did. Still not enough though, is it? Still have to prove myself after 3 bullets taken for each other?"

"Grace. Not. Now. Polly drop it, throw the fucking gun in the canal. Both of you just fucking drop it. We don't have time for this." Tommy's yelled now, his voice practically shook the windows, and Grace shivered slightly. Polly stared into the rain with an unreadable face, refusing to look towards Grace. For once, Michael's signature tension-induced-laughter didn't make itself known.

"You need to call Alfie. He can get the contracts before we do. He should've been there in the first place." Michael broke the silence after what felt like an eternity, his voice confident, unafraid to reason with his cousin. Polly's eyes flashed to her son. She only came back every 3 months, for two weeks if that, and Michael's increasing comfortability with Tommy was clearly news to her. Grace took secret satisfaction in that, which she knew was petty, but she was seizing as many small victories against today as she could.

"Already done." Tommy turned back around, pointing his empty-again whiskey glass at each of them before continuing. "The four of us are meeting him tonight at the Garrison. We're closing it down, so Grace don't worry about your shift. And before you ask, yes Arthur is still seeing Lily tonight, I didn't tell him about this, just that he had the night off." Tommy's eyes softened for a fraction of a second when he looked at Grace, forever admiring the compassion in her that he tended to lack, but his affection was pushed to the side as he remembered the business at hand, what she knew ultimately boiled down to fear. Grace saw the fear come back, but it was translated into nothing but stress and anger. "That being said, until family dinner tomorrow night, nobody fuckin' hears about this. None of it leaves this fucking room. If you suddenly find yourself incapable of pretending this didn't happen, hide in your offices, leave early, I don't fucking care. I have things to do. When Alfie gives me a time for tonight, I'll tell you. Don't be late. Pol take this fucking paper and shred it. Right, go. Get out."

Grace and Michael were unfazed by Tommy's harsh directions, but Polly stared at him with apprehension. Glaring right back, he threw his hands up expectantly. "What?"

Pol took her time lighting a clove cigarette, and despite everything Grace had to admire her. The more impatient Tommy became, the slower she purposefully moved, completely uncaring. Finally exhaling a long trail of smoke towards her nephew, her serious voice grew quiet. "We all made sacrifices, big and small, to get where we are Thomas. The four of us in this room know it more than anyone. Don't drag us all into it again. We thought we knew who we were dealing with then, too. Whether you want to believe it or not, this isn't our world yet. You can't barge in. Knocking 4 years off your never-ending plan to rule the world isn't worth losing what we have now. You'd do well to remember that. Back down, Thomas."

Grace and Michael simultaneously cringed. Shouldn't have ended with that. Tommy's period of what had possibly been an oasis of introspection in the midst of all his anger came to a halt, and he rubbed his jaw while nodding at his aunt sarcastically. Michael attempted to disguise his laughter in a cough before heeding his boss' previous words and leaving the room to escape any wrath.

"Great speech, Pol." Tommy dropped into his high-backed chair and picked up his black desktop phone, holding it between his ear and shoulder, slamming a number into the keypad while holding their fateful fax out towards Polly. Scoffing, she snatched the paper with a Romani swear before walking out, Grace close behind her.

"Gracie," Tommy's voice was low like it had been a little over two hours ago, just for her, but with an edge it hadn't been carrying earlier. Stone-cold eyes searched Grace, looking at his mirror image for reassurance, but wording it like she was the one that needed it. "You and me, alright? Trust me, trust me."

"I trust you. Me and you." They nodded at each other and Grace smiled gently, shutting the glass door behind her as she left Tommy to his war, feeling the knots in her back tightening. She wished she could actually carry his stress on her back.

Polly said her goodbyes to Michael and gave Grace what she took as a genuine smile, small though it was, before storming down the hallway to her own office. Grace almost felt bad for her, but she knew the two women would no doubt talk later and the irritation of that pushed her sympathy away.

"Well this is fucking annoying. So anyway, I think I find myself 'incapable of pretending', as I think it was worded. Brunch, movies, spending money on useless objects, acting like we don't have to attend the clusterfuck that's going to be this meeting with Alfie in 8 hours? We can just work late tomorrow to make up for today." Michael sang the last word coaxingly, and Grace laughed but shook her head.

"No, I should stay in case Tommy needs me. I want to work anyway. You go. Take Finn, not like he went to class anyway."

"Such a doting Mrs. Shelby." Michael widened his eyes jokingly at her as he pressed the call button for the elevator, which opened immediately, already on their floor.

Grace looked back at Tommy one more time to see him still punching in the phone number, getting it wrong over and over again, increasing rage making it worse. It pained her, but there was nothing she could do until he came to her, and she knew it. Grace turned away and trailed after Michael, both of them pretending the last sound they heard above the gilded doors sliding shut wasn't Tommy's phone smashing to bits as it was thrown against the wall.

Sorry for the wee bit of a filler chapter with a side of unhappiness, it was necessary to set up some things. Thank you so much for reading, review to your heart's desires xx