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alfiesolcmons-blog · 6 years

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Summary: Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons come in contact with a gangster in Manchester that is turning up all their business endeavours. The man behind this business is not who they expected it to be. Word count: 2,927 Pairing: Alfie Solomons x OC x Tommy Shelby (not a typical love triangle, I promise. and a lot of broken hearts) Warning: violence, murder, criminal activity, alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual scenes, curse words, period typical sexism, period typical racism AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281704/chapters/32943615

xxx

There were no telegrams from Liverpool. No news about the safe voyage of Tommy Shelby’s investment that was planned to cross the Atlantic ocean tomorrow. There were no telegrams telling him what had happened, or if his investment had even boarded a ship to America. Tommy sat at his desk in the Shelby Company Limited building, he bit down on his teeth tightly. He had stopped the rest of the shipments by the canal, he was not about to lose a great deal of money and it wasn’t Tommy Shelby’s style to make bad judgements on his business ventures. He was truly baffled.

The next morning Tommy drove to Small Heath to the betting shop for his regular visits. When he approached the long street of Watery Lane, a mountain of broken crates were visible in front of the main door to the shop. Tommy’s stomach sunk, he knew exactly what it was. He parked the motor car and walked angrily toward the crates that were slowly accumulating a crowd. He was right. They were his crates, packaged with bottles of his own concoction of gin. Most of the bottles were broken. Tommy clenched his fists before he stuck his hand in a crate that held a folded piece of notepaper.

‘Try Harder’ was written in wide curly cursive. Tommy began to shout for someone to clean up the mess before he went inside to flip over a table. The crates outside could have easily made him £10,000. He was fuming. It didn’t take him long to send someone to Liverpool to see who was running the ports. He had connections in Liverpool, but now Tommy was assuming that he may have been sold out. He would have to wait a day to see who he had made an enemy of.

xxx

Alfie Solomons had his head in his hands as his eyes scanned the documents on his desk. He had run through some complications. The port he had been using to export his rum had been taken over by parliament and the British Crown. Alfie’s associate in Bristol had handed over the port's earnings and had gone straight, already headed for America before Alfie could cut him a smile for walking out on their business relationship. There was no port near London that could ship his illegal alcohol under the radar. A headache this problem had induced lasted too long for Alfie’s comfort. There was no chance he would ask Sabini to use the port to the South, he had been double-crossed far too many times. His only hope right now was to figure out if Tommy had taken hold of Liverpool, and if Tommy would be willing to let Alfie weasel himself in to continue forging his empire of illegal liquor.

The telegram was short. All Alfie needed was an audience. “I’ll be in Birmingham in three days, to pay an old mate a visit.” Vague with a dash of intimidation was Alfie’s style.

xxx

Alfie was quick to show his dissatisfaction with Small Heath upon his arrival. Every time he was there he never failed to comment on the smell, mostly smoke, gas, and often times piss as well. He was at the Shelby Company Limited offices. It was an upgrade from the betting shops Alfie had once visited, and a far cry more prestigious then his own hidden distillery disguised as a bakery.

Alfie strode into the building his chin high, his slight limp making him look even more intimidating than necessary. The woman at the desk dared not to look at him as he walked by, making his way to Thomas’ office.

As Alfie opened the door, he called out to Tommy who was sat behind his desk scanning documents like Alfie had been days prior, a similar look on his face.

“Tommy!” Alfie got his attention, his arms outstretched. This eccentricity always seemed so odd to Tommy.

“Good to see you Alfie” Tommy had always been good at looking bored. “Why have you come?” He never usually got to the point so quickly though.

“I had an associate, ya, he sold out to the crown, the fucking pollack. So, I’ve lost my port.”

“You’ve come to see if I can help you in Liverpool then?” Tommy lit a cigarette and motioned to Alfie if he wanted one too. He declined with a wave of his hand, cigars were more of Alfie’s thing. Alfie waited for a response to Tommy’s own question not planning on repeating the question again. “I have a problem me’self. Last week, all my booze, meant for America, was destroyed in Liverpool and sent back to me with this note.” Tommy pulled the note out from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Alfie.

Alfie read the curly letters, try harder, letting out a laugh. “It’s funny, innit?” Tommy wasn’t amused by Alfie’s chuckle.

“I had one of my men sent out to Liverpool. He came back yesterday with important information. I’m headed to Manchester next week.”

“What’s in Manchester?” Alfie asked, as he placed the note on Tommy’s desk and began to rub the sides of his beard with his right hand.

“The docks in Liverpool are run by a gangster named Rhys Holloway. He has a truce with all the shipping companies and ports in Liverpool, has half of Wales under his control and also has a few docks in Bristol—” Tommy eyed Alfie, as Alfie gave him a dissatisfied frown. “Holloway has also done business in Newcastle, but has no leaning there.”

“Well, he gets ‘round don’t he?” Alfie answered blankly, he was obviously quite impressed with the Holloway fellow but annoyed that he hadn’t known what was going on up north, while he was preoccupied in the south.

“I’ve made an appointment with Holloway for next week,” Tommy started.

“Right then. I’ll be sending one myself. Keep in touch,” Alfie got up from his chair abruptly. He had received all the information he needed. Tommy had no sway in Liverpool, the person he needed to contact was Rhys Holloway.

xxx

Alfie was able to make contact with Rhys Holloway’s secretary and had a meeting scheduled for the following week. He had prepared properly. He had found out that Holloway was a cutthroat with a strange nickname that didn’t match the persona Alfie had created in his head. In Manchester, the public called Holloway ‘Silver Spoon’. Holloway was in the same business as Alfie transporting, Absinthe and Rum. Rhys Holloway went under the radar through a dealership of fabrics and textiles. Mainly importing silk, velvet, satin, and chiffon, from France and exporting it to America and developing his own work in between. Alfie had to commend Holloway, Alfie assumed that it was much easier to move alcohol through fabrics and textiles.

Alfie was travelling to Manchester, he had a band of five men to back him up if things went wrong. But if something truly went wrong, five men wouldn’t be enough. It ended up being more of a formality than anything else. Holloway & Sons Company Limited was located on the edge of the city centre in a long four-story building. It looked far more liable then Shelby Company Limited, and far more liable then Alfie’s bakery, it was still underground after all.

Alfie walked to the main doors, looking down at his pocket watch to check the time. As he entered the double doors, he found Tommy and a group of Blinders around him in a waiting room. Alfie raised an eyebrow, as Tommy watched him walk to the main desk. A woman with blonde short hair checked Alfie in to speak to Rhys Holloway. Alfie made his way to the waiting area and sat down. Tommy stood tall in front of him.

“What’s your time?” Tommy asked, with no greeting. He was asking about when Alfie would be in for a meeting. Alfie hadn’t expected to be at the Holloway Company on the same day as Tommy, but here they were and sitting in the waiting room at the same time. Alfie clenched his jaw before he answered Tom.

“Half past two,” he said nonchalantly. Tommy rubbed his face with his hand, the distress was evident.

“This has to be a trap, Tom.” It was John that spoke up behind Tommy.

“We’re in at half past two,” Tommy added, looking straight at Alfie. Alfie stood up from the chair and leaned closer to him to whisper.

“Are ya armed?”

“Not all of us, too many coppers in Manchester,” there was an uneasy silence between them as they both tried to figure out the odds of them surviving the meeting they were about to enter into, with not enough weapons, and possibly outnumbered.

A woman in a deep red dress strode out of a hallway to their right, she looked far more glamorous than the walls of the building, she seemed out of place, a little too ethereal for the mahogany walls and glass windows looking into different rooms. Her hair was a long, dark chestnut brown and styled elegantly behind her. As she approached the group she asked for Thomas Shelby and Alfred Solomons to follow her, and just the pair of them. Both Tommy and Alfie were alert, at any corner and at any open door an assailant could be ready to throttle them. But they arrived at a dimly lit office, so far unscathed. The woman moved so gracefully as they stepped into the office, Alfie and Tommy couldn’t help but watch her backside as she moved. She walked to the end of the room and sat down at the desk, where a golden plaque that read ‘CEO Rhys Holloway’ signalled to them that they had arrived at the correct location. Alfie gave Tommy a look before he sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, Tommy took the chair next to him.

“When will we be expecting Mr. Holloway?” Tommy asked the woman in front of them. She was arranging papers on the desk and then looked up to answer him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she pouted at Tommy, but it seemed more like she was mocking him. She stood up and moved to the corner of the room, where there was a liquor table with several bottles, some only half full on top of it. “Do either of you have a taste for absinthe?” she looked back at them a playful smile on her lips. “It’s an acquired taste, I must say.” She poured two glasses of the soft green substance and handed it to Tommy and Alfie. As they drank, they both understood how it did take an acquired taste. The liquid burned the walls of their throats far more than any kind of rum or whisky ever had.

“Right,” Alfie had grown impatient with the silence that followed. “Are we expecting Holloway today or not? I have other things to do.” The expression on his face showed that he meant business now, and as beautiful as the woman was he couldn’t sit there just staring at her.

“You’re talking to ‘er,” she stated, looking unamused for once as she stared Alfie down. Her hands clasped together on top of the desk.

“What?” Tommy said, disliking her vagueness.

“I’m disappointed in you two, truly.” She leaned back in her chair as she took a swig of her absinthe. “When you send someone down to check on who is running the North and Wales, send someone competent, it’ll help with first impressions and not making yourselves look like proper fools. I’m Rhys Holloway, and I’m not too happy to be making your acquaintances right now.” She turned her head away from them, showing her sudden disinterest.

“Well, I can’t say I like surprises, but I’m amused.” Alfie started cracking a smile, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he was slightly turned on by her insults towards them.

“You’re Rhys Holloway?” Tommy asked, he was great at keeping a neutral face, Rhys envied his ability.

“The one and only, now what do you want?” she answered. Her mood had changed drastically but Alfie was still entertained by the situation. Rhys Holloway was not a man, but a woman, and an exceptionally beautiful one at that.

“You owe me compensation for destroyed and missing merchandise, but that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Well,” Alfie cut Tommy off, as usual. “I’m not here for that. We have no problems, no bad blood and I’m looking for a port to use, and you have seniority in the West.” Alfie tipped his head at Rhys for her acknowledgement as Tommy looked at him rather annoyed.

“I’m not looking for any alliances, and I’m not looking to pay compensation to anyone at the moment, so the door is right behind you both, you are free to leave.” She had extended her hand toward the door behind them, an insincere smile graced her face as she went back to her paperwork. The previous attraction Alfie had felt for Rhys took a place in the back-burner as he looked at her unimpressed.

“I’m not leaving empty handed, sweetheart” Tommy spoke nonchalantly. Alfie scoffed at him, it may have been the wrong time to speak to Rhys that way. But she had called Tommy a sweetheart when they had walked in.

“Sweetheart?” Rhys cracked a smile, neither Tommy or Alfie could figure out the meaning behind it. “Oh you,” She started, her voice like a cat’s purr. She got up from her chair slowly and as unthreatening as possible. She stepped around her desk, her fingers gliding on the smooth wood of her desk, both Alfie and Tommy swallowed down hard as they watched her demeanour change again to something more seductive then they were prepared for. “You should really be careful with what you call me, you might make a wife out of me.” Alfie watched uncomfortably as Rhys’ hand reached Tommy’s chest, and glided up his freshly pressed suit up onto his shoulder. She stood behind him and bent down to whisper in his ear, but Alfie had been far too distracted to notice that as she moved to pull a blade out from under the slit of her dress. It was tightly pressed against Tommy’s neck now, there was no chance for him to move.

“Call me sweetheart again.” She had said it softly against Tommy’s ear. Tommy couldn’t deny that he was aroused by her, but he didn’t answer her. If he spoke it would be enough to leave a graze on his neck. Rhys placed a soft kiss on his cheek, Tommy couldn’t understand her, she was so strange. Alfie was left to sit there quite jealous of the events unfolding, he was debating if he wanted to cause a scene as well, just to get a piece of her.

As Rhys moved away to stand by the window that looked out into the city, Alfie stood from his chair to address her.

“Alright, Rhys, Darling, I’ve travelled far to see ya, right, and I thought I was going to meet someone else, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want an alliance of some sort, alright? I’m very open to negotiations. You want something I have, go ahead and take it, right.” Alfie was mostly talking about his cock, but his informal deal went both ways. Rhys looked away from the window to look Alfie up and down. It was obvious to Tommy that she was playing games now, she was trying to fool them, she wasn’t normally like this. It was a persona, an alter ego. Tommy watched the scene unfold from his chair, as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and held it in between his teeth so he could pull out a lighter.

Rhys smiled at him sweetly, almost innocently as she finished inspecting Alfie’s frame, his cane in one hand, the other in his pocket. Rhys moved quite slowly this time, as she pulled a gun from underneath her dress. She had done it purposely. She pointed the gun at Alfie this time. Her hand at the ready to pull the trigger.

“Show me your hands,” she said softly, she didn’t even seem alarmed. She was clearly playing games, avoiding the purpose both Alfie and Tommy had gone to Manchester for. Alfie held both hands in front of him showing no weapons in his hands. Rhys turned away, boredom in her face as if she were hoping for him to show off some kind of weapon in his hands. All the while Alfie was still excited by her, he was a complete and honest masochist, Tommy was too he just didn’t want to admit to it.

“Alright boys, that’s enough for today, I’m tired.” She sounded bored again, as she moved toward her desk to pick up her glass still half full of absinthe. She downed the rest of the drink before she spoke again. “We’ll be seeing each other again I assume,” she looked at Tommy first, and then at Alfie by the window. This time she wasn’t joking around they could tell by how bored she appeared, she was done playing her game. Tommy left the room quietly, first, but Alfie stayed for a minute or so just to look at her as she looked over documents at her desk. He left without a sound truly hoping he would be seeing her again, not just because he was attracted to her, but because he really needed her help.

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alfiesolcmons-blog · 6 years

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The days after Alfie’s trip to Manchester had been far more exhausting and stressful then they were before the trip. The distillery had produced far more liquor then it could distribute and Alfie was in dire need of access to his company’s overseas partners. He was debating whether he should send his rum east, but he knew that the West had all the real cash because of its nationwide constitutional prohibition, a true godsend.

The stacks of paper containing stock and payroll were giving Alfie a headache. Sabini’s men had even tried to pick a fight with his own men on the Camden Town borderline, Sabini was getting far too confident for Alfie’s liking, but Alfie couldn’t afford to call a meeting between the two gangs. He’d been down that path before and he didn’t want to go through with it again.

Alfie had his elbows on the table and his head sulked. He was staring at the oak colour of his desk, a million thoughts were racing in his head. He was thinking of all the unthinkable possibilities of his business escaping the sudden impasse that Rhys Holloway’s verdict had left him.

His thoughts kept roaming back to the intense but strange woman he had the fortune or was it misfortune of meeting. Rhys Holloway had managed to keep slipping in and out of his mind. Was it her image, her voice, or the fact that she shut him down so clearly and in front of Tommy Shelby too. The only thing that soothed Alfie was the fact that she had shut Tommy down as well.

Alfie opened the bottom drawer from his desk and pulled out a bottle of dark rum, as Alfie placed the bottle on top his desk, the bottle slid and hit the telephone set he had on his desk. The bottle knocked the receiver off and Alfie frowned at the scene in front of him.

The bottle of rum returned to Alfie’s hand as he took a short glass and filled it with rum. He took a big gulp of the strong liquid before he placed the receiver back in its place. Alfie stared at the telephone for what could have been an hour of Alfie contemplating if he should call Rhys is in Manchester.

His hand was on the receiver then, feeling its strange texture. He rehearsed what he wanted to say in his head.

‘This is Alfie, from Camden, I need to speak to Rhys,’

‘It’s Alfred Solomons, I have business to speak of with Rhys Holloway,’

‘Right, it’s Alfie. Rhys done fucked me over 'ere, and I need to talk ‘er, or I might go to Manchester right now and I won’t leave ‘er alone until she fixes this fuckin’ mess she’s made.’

Alfie ran his free hand over his eyes, trying to rid himself of the tiredness he had there before he decided to stroke the sides of his beard.

Alfie coughed, trying to clear his throat, he needed to get it over with. He picked the receiver up and turned the dial to get a hold of Holloway & Sons. He had written the number down a long while ago and had a scrap of paper in his hand as he waited for someone to pick up the telephone on the other end. He was crunching the paper in his hand and then smoothing it out as he waited.

“Holloway & Sons Company Limited, Allison speaking,”

“Yeah, Allison,” Alfie started as he forgot about the piece of paper he was playing with. “I need to talk to the lady of the house, I have business with ‘er.” Alfie couldn’t help himself, he didn’t need to be so arrogant or was it ignorant.

“The lady of the house?” Allison repeated herself, sounding slightly confused.

“Rhys, yeah, if she’s there just let me talk to ‘er.”

“I can’t do that right now, she’s in a meeting. But, if you give me your name and how I can contact you I will give her a message and she can contact you later.”

“No, I need to speak to ‘er now,” Alfie was running his hand from his forehead, through the top of his head. The stress was coming back and he didn’t want it too.

She was in a meeting, she was in a meeting, she was in a meeting… it repeated in his head numerous times until Alfie considered who she could be meeting with. Was she meeting Tommy? His blood was boiling then, but he didn’t move an inch, he didn’t even flex a muscle.

“Mister, Ms. Holloway is in a meeting, I can take a message.”

“Right,” Alfie sounded, he did his best to not sound defeated. If anything he sounded more annoyed than anything else, as he picked the scrap piece of paper up and began to scrunch it up in his hand again. “Right, tell her Alfie Solomons called, and I want to negotiate.”

“Thank you, Mr. Solomons, Ms. Holloway will get back to you as soon as she is free.” Rhys’ secretary seemed unamused or was she bored by the sickly sweet voice she tried to carry over the telephone. Alfie hung the phone up then, twiddling his thumbs together on his desk as he watched the rum in his glass tremble slightly. He grabbed the glass roughly and downed the entire drink before slamming the glass cup down on the desk. It was a surprise the cup didn’t shatter, but with that Alfie stood up aggressively, almost knocking his chair back with the quick movement and stormed out to see what the workers were doing to make the building quake.

Ollie had been in the room with Alfie as they discussed possible strategies to deal with the ports. They had business in America, and they had free rein there thanks to a Jewish gang in Florida and an Irish one in New Jersey.

Ollie was offering ideas for possible solutions, most of them had to deal with sucking up to the Americans and asking them to influence Rhys’ hold on the ports in Liverpool and Bristol. But Alfie wasn’t going to sacrifice his pride, he didn’t want to look weak to the American’s and especially not to Rhys either. The telephone began to ring on Alfie’s desk and Ollie stared at Alfie wondering if he was going to pick it up. Alfie motioned with his hand for Ollie to answer it instead and so he did.

“Alfie Solomon’s office, Ollie speaking,” Ollie looked at Alfie carefully before he answered the person on the other end of the phone. “Of course,” Ollie handed the receiver to Alfie, but Alfie stood up quickly and snatched the entire telephone; its holder and receiver in his arm so he could look out the window of his office as he spoke on the phone.

“This is Alfie,” he spoke clearly into the phone. Ollie didn’t say who it was but he knew it was Rhys on the other end.

“Well, if it isn’t my darling from London.” There was a sweet laugh to her words.

“Rhys–” She cut him off quickly.

“I know what you want Solomons, just tell me how your planning on getting it and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right,” Alfie narrowed his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at Ollie, “The Crown has my port in Bristol. I need a port there, I have buyers in Florida waiting for my bread. And my supply needs to be moved. If you can give some chap a call in Bristol I’ll be happy to add you to my payroll,”

“So, you need my influence do you,” her voice returned to the feminine purr he had heard when he had first met her in Manchester.

“Yeah, I’m happy to negotiate, darling, I just need to move my bread and we can discuss numbers or any other form of payment.” any other form of payment, he knew he was being rude, Rhys didn't seem like a prostitute, but Alfie was feeling like one at the moment.

“We should meet again, maybe you’ll get what you’re hoping for then.” Her vagueness was just as frustrating from the first time he spoke to her, she sounded as if she was leaning toward a truce between their gangs and business ventures, but she also seemed to allude to something else. Was she attracted to him as Alfie was attracted to her? He was hoping for it, but he wouldn’t truly know until they saw each other in person.

“Take a trip down to Camden Town, and we both may get what we both need,” Alfie was running a hand down the sides of his face, smoothing out his beard. There was a sudden surge of confidence in him, he really wanted to see her again. For business purposes of course, but her face, her body line, even her scent, he wanted to see her again.

“Maybe you’ll treat a lady to dinner,” There was a short melodic laugh in her words, and then a soft sigh. She seemed otherworldly at that moment, and all he had to go by was her voice. Alfie gulped down hard and waited for more words, but she hung up. Alfie hung up the phone himself.

It was late already, and with that, he thought it was best to head home for the night. He didn’t even say goodnight to Ollie as he got up from his desk and left his office.

Tommy was still running the pitches and he still had the factories to run as well. He made good money even without his passion project to bring in American dollars. But the woman he had met, a woman he had underestimated still haunted him.

He had dreamt of her almost every night. Often times she was dressed in white and had an ethereal glow to her, she’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek again and she’d tell Tommy he was the coolest.

In other dreams, she was dressed in a muted dark green, her hands in the pockets of her trench coat, as she looked at him from above his own bed. She’d whisper that he didn’t try hard enough, and she’d choke the laugh out of him, or shoot him dead right there, but he’d always wake up before he’d die.

He was truly rattled by her, yet he was incredibly intrigued by this enigma, this woman.

He couldn’t figure her out. She was a feared gangster, he knew that. But, why she was feared he wasn’t sure what was fact or fiction. He didn’t know why the people in Manchester called her the Silver Spoon, either. He didn’t understand her motives, he couldn’t place them. He couldn’t understand her as a woman, because he had never met one like her. Tommy had met his fair share of strong and irresistible women, but none compared to her.

He could still see the shape of her figure, her long dark hair. The resting pout of her lips covered in rouge, and the way her delicate, long fingers circled her glass of poison.

Tommy couldn’t get her out of his head, he was thinking of her now as his hands were above a sheet of paper. A document he needed to sign, for one of his factories, he couldn’t say which one because he was distracted.

Lizzie walked into the room then, she was looking for all the documents for filing she had left them with him hours ago and he hadn’t signed any of them yet. He was too enthralled in his own thoughts, his thoughts of Rhys Holloway.

“Done?” Lizzie spoke casually as she looked for the familiar papers on Tommy’s desk.

“Right,” he acknowledged her but didn’t give her a straight answer. He was like this with everyone, no one ever truly had his full attention. He was always the bigger person in the room this way.

“I need to separate them Tom, some for filing away, and some need to be mailed.” Lizzie’s hands were on her hips, to her displeasure her pregnancy had given her a fuller figure.

“Have you read over all of them?” He asked her absentmindedly, he still hadn’t looked her in the face.

“Yes, I have,” she answered.

“And are all the clauses and policies in the best interest of the company?” Tom finally looked at her then, grazing the back of his fingers against his sharp jawline.

“I believe so,” Lizzie said carefully, as she eyed him expectantly.

“Alright then,” Tommy answered, as he moved to sign every single document in front of him without even reading them through. He wasn’t a fool. He always read everything on the sheets of papers he put his name on. He wasn’t going to have his own name on something he couldn’t be proud of, it wasn’t his style. Lizzie knew this, she knew almost every little tick that helped him function... almost everything.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” There was concern in Lizzie’s voice, she knew there was something on his mind, he couldn’t even hide it well this time. But Tommy shut her down quick.

“I’m fine… here,” He handed her all the documents so she could take them and leave.

As Lizzie left and the door clicked closed behind her, Tommy was thinking of his gin. He’d lost a lot of money after the mess that Arthur had left in the distillery trying to get rid of the Italians once and for all. It took several months to clean and repair, and weeks to get it back up and running. Tommy had put a lot of effort into his perfecting his gin after the vendetta with the Italians were settled with Luca Changretta’s death.

Tommy was able to send an enormous amount of gin to Al Capone in the Chicago Outfit, and in turn, he made several contacts in Boston, Atlantic City and New York who were itching to buy alcohol at any price Tommy would give them. Prohibition was doing wonders for international distributors and Tommy still wanted to be apart of that elite group.

An Irish-American gangster was still expecting his load of six dozen cases of gin, hidden amongst car parts. He’d even given Tommy an angry call, and all Tommy could say was that there was trouble in the ports and he could not send anything at the moment. He hated saying it. Sure enough, this American gangster was going to tell his other American gangster comrades and soon Tommy’s name would be tarnished on American soil.

He needed Liverpool back, even if it was just one port. He really only needed one. He needed Rhys, he needed her ‘okay’, her influence. As he thought of her again, he wondered what kind of connections she had, in England, Scotland, Ireland, he already knew she had all of Wales, but why did she have it and why hadn’t he known sooner. He wondered about her international connections, what people thought of her in America, he knew she had to be doing business there too.

Tommy’s fingers itched to pick up the telephone, so he could call her, to just hear her voice, or to discuss a possible renegotiation on the terms she shut him down with when he went up to Manchester to see her blindly and definitely unprepared.

He knew the number, he knew the address, all he had to do was call, he had nothing left to lose, she had taken it all from him already and still, somehow he didn’t hate her. He was just far more intrigued and mesmerized then usual.

He picked up the telephone and made the connection. He looked out the window in his office, the sun was close to setting, he hoped she’d still be in her company building.

“Holloway & Sons Company Limited, Allison speaking,” a secretary spoke.

“This is Tommy Shelby, connect me to Rhys Holloway,” it came out as a demand, but only because Tommy was impatient

“Sorry, Mr. Shelby, Ms. Holloway left the office for the night. She’ll be back tomorrow morning at nine. I can take a message if you like?”

“Tell ‘er I need to speak to her urgently, and that she can make that call directly to my home.” Tommy proceeded to give Allison his home telephone information. Tommy hated to wait but he had no other choice. He hung the phone up and decided he would be heading home too. He knew Charlie would be expecting him soon anyway.

She was there again, in her cream coloured gown and her white glow. He couldn’t tell how she moved it seemed to quick at some moments and then too slow in others. Tommy was still lying in his bed as he watched Rhys move and bite her bottom lip. She was standing above him on his right side, and as Tommy blinked, she was now on his left crouched down, her head was laying against her arm on top of his bed. She looked at him with dazed but dreamy expression. Tommy wanted to pull her up, and put her on top of him. But he didn’t dare move, he felt as if he’d burn up alive if he touched her first.

“You’re the coolest,” her voice returned to the feminine purr he had dreamed about countless times.

Tommy blinked again, but he couldn’t see her anymore. He could feel her weight on top of him but couldn’t feel her skin. He could smell Rhys though, it was a perfect floral but spiced scent. He could feel her breathing and her cheek against his. “You’ll make a wife out of me.” It was an echo of words he had heard her say before. He could feel his cock get hard, but she hadn’t done much to get it like that.

Then he felt a wetness glide up from his jawline onto his cheek. Her tongue hot against his flesh. He wanted to see her. He wanted to feel her.

A knock came at his bedroom door that stirred him out of his strange but euphoric dream. It was one of Tommy’s maids.

“Mr. Shelby, the phone for you,” the woman in uniform and short waved hair spoke out to him. Tommy spoke groggily, still feeling the sleep in his eyes.

“Who is it?” He croaked.

“It’s a Miss Rhys Holloway from Manchester,” Tommy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and forced himself upright in his bed.

“I’ll take it in here,” he spoke clearly this time, as he reached for the telephone on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed he slept in. He cleared his throat and got comfortable before he picked up the phone.

“Rhys,” He started, but she cut him off.

“Tommy Shelby OBE, you’ve been thinking of me,” He could hear the smile in her words.

“I’ve had many things on my mind since I saw you last.” He tried to sound unfazed as best he could.

“Then what is it you need from me, you did call me yesterday did you not?”

“I’m not asking for compensation anymore,” Tommy stated roughly.

“Well, that’s grand, what are you ask for Mr. Shelby?”

“A truce,”

“A truce? I didn’t know we were at war?” Rhys laughed into the phone, as if the prospect of having gang war was laughable to her.

“Before anything starts, lets be amicable. I don’t have the motivation to start anything with you, all I need is place to dock a ship that can take my gin from Liverpool to New York.”

“And you need my help, sweetheart?” her voice fell into the velvet-like purr again, it felt to Tommy as if she were in the same room with him. A shiver slid down his spine, but he kept himself composed, he was good at it.

“How do you fancy Birmingham?” Tommy said flatly, he hoped that the lack of emotion in his voice would deter her haughty yet playful attitude.

“Not much, but I’m sure it depends on the invitation. Are you inviting me Thomas?”

“I have several spare rooms in my home, and several maids that need work to do,”

“I’ll stop you right there,” She interrupted once again. “If I plan to go to Birmingham, I’ll figure out my own accommodations, I don’t need your house or anything you have. Got it?” Her words were sharp, he hadn’t heard that tone from her before, and he was intrigued.

“But you’ll still be in Birmingham?” Tommy asked.

“I will be,” she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ll have my secretary send you more information,”

“Right,” Tommy answered, and then he heard the click on the other end. She hung up.

Tommy had no idea what was going on in Rhys’ head but now that she was going to be in Birmingham soon, he was debating which way he would get her attention. He could treat it like a business meeting, like any other sane person, or he could cop-out and seduce her instead.

He was leaning more towards seducing her, he just wanted to see what part of his dream was real or not, and hoped she wouldn’t pull a gun on him.

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