Business Comes First - Chapter 9
A Peaky Blinders fanfiction set around the end of season three.
MY MASTERLIST (with parts 1-8)
Summary: Alice is a smart and savvy business woman in a male dominated world. She uses her wit and power to get what she wants but she has burdens from her past that could hinder a business transaction in Small Heath.
Author’s note: Sorry for my lack of new chapters recently- here’s an extra long one to make up for it! Our gal has made her way to London Town, and she is beginning to forge new relationships: business and pleasure.
As always, any feedback/questions etc are much appreciated and do let me know if you wish to be tagged in any future instalments. This blog is a side blog, so any replies will be from @bookish-fox (hopefully this will avoid any confusion!)
Tagged Accounts: @mariamermaiiid @little-miss-mischief1 @liive0urlife @peakyhoegh @chickens-are-life @birmingum @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @tenderlydeliciousthing @megatqistina @sginger1995 @cannibalcuriosity @shesgucci @zazasblogxx
Warnings: Language, blood, guns etc.
Chapter 9 - Rings and a Baker
You had found Eunice to exceed your expectations, you never approved of Henry’s choice in partner, but you found her to be amiable and welcoming. The only issue that you had was that she seemed to be completely unaware of your family’s profession.
“What are you planning to do tomorrow, Alice?” She sweetly asked you.
“Henry is at work in the bakery all day, but I’d be happy to show you around London.”
“In the bakery?” You question.
Could she be that naive? From behind her, you could see Henry giving you the eyes to go along with her. He looked panicked more than anything. Smiling, you reply. “Oh, I’m not sure yet, I have some friends I wish to see, but I’ll happily take you up on your offer another time.”
Eunice smiled in return, then excused herself as she was tired. As soon as she was out of earshot, you bombarded Henry with questions.
“Why haven’t you told her about Goodfellows?”
“I will, but not yet.” He replied curtly.
“Why not? She would be thrilled to know our background I’m sure.” You say, sipping at your tea.
“Goodfellows is something different here, Al,” he says slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a serious and sincere gaze. You raise an eyebrow, but decide not to question him further for you didn’t want to fall out with him so early in your visit.
“Anyway, what is the plan for tomorrow?” You ask, changing the subject.
“I’ll send a car for you in the morning, then you shall meet Mr Solomons. I have a deal I need to conclude with him so I’ll fill you in on that.” He lowered his voice as he continued. “We’ll probably spend a lot of time in the bakery, so I would eat a hearty breakfast if I were you.”
You smirk at this, privy to the gangster secret code. “Sounds good.” You smile.
After dropping you off at your brother’s house, Tommy had driven straight to May Carleton’s house. The ruminative silence that filled the car in your absence gave him time to think. He thought he was sure of his previous convictions, but upon the conversation during your picnic, his head was filled with nothing but doubts and worries. As he pulled up onto the driveway of May’s country estate, he saw her stood in the doorway, and he felt himself melt into her chocolate brown eyes the way that he always did. In that moment, he decided that he was not going to think anymore that night, he would let himself free to sensation, thus allowing everything to wash over him. Thought would resume in the morning.
You awoke at eight the next morning, giving yourself ample time to get ready for your meeting with Mr Solomons at ten. There was a change in the recurring dream you experienced every night, you found yourself simply circling the hospital tent in a frenzy, searching for an unknown object. Despite the night terror, you didn’t wake up clutching the gun you kept under your pillow and screaming Henry’s name, so, anything was an improvement. You took your time choosing your outfit, eventually choosing a dusty pink dress and matching long coat. The coat was a particular favourite of yours: long enough to conceal any weapon with ease. As normal, you strapped your gun to the holster on your thigh, but, upon an inspection of the busy street below through your hotel window, you decided that additional protection would be required, so you put your hair into a messy up-do with a long pin that could be pulled out and used as a weapon within seconds.
Henry’s car arrived at exactly ten, to your satisfaction and you were even more thrilled to discover that Henry himself was in that car too, for you had assumed he would be making his own way to the ‘bakery’.
“I’m sorry things have been tense between us, Al,” he said a couple minutes into your drive. “Things have been quite stressful with business at the moment. I haven’t told Eunice about business at all.” You felt your heart drop slightly at Henry’s confession, you hated to know that he was stressed, but you were grateful for his honesty. You smiled at him, but before you could reply, the car had pulled over, signalling the end of your journey.
You followed Henry down an intricate system of dark passages and corridors. All around you, you could hear the sounds of industry and working, but not once did you see a loaf of bread. Henry stopped in front of a door, and looked back at you reassuringly before he knocked. You were expecting it to be Alfie Solomons’ office through the door, but you were mistaken, for you were met with an empty room, with two armed guards stood in front of another door.
“Mr Goodfellow,” one acknowledged your brother.
“Ollie,” Henry replied. He raised his arms as he allowed Ollie to search him.
Ollie carried out his search, then nodded, allowing Henry to make his way through the next door. You felt the metal of your gun burn against your thigh. Ollie came awkwardly towards you, so swallowed and raised your arms, allowing him to initiate a search. Ollie bit his lip and looked to his colleague, evidently unsure of how to proceed. He turned to talk to his colleague.
“She won’t be carrying anything, surely?” He asked, not quite quiet enough for you not to hear. His colleague shrugged as you still stood with your arms raised.
“Are you going to search me or not, boys?” You ask frustratedly. “I can feel the blood running from my arms.”
“Miss Goodfellow.” You state firmly, walking through the door.
Upon entering the room, you were immediately met with the strong smell of alcohol, and the severity of the stench caused you to wrinkle your nose in reaction.
“Sorry if the smell is too much for your nose, love,” you looked up to see the owner of the voice. The man that stood before you was large, but his clothes made him look larger. He wore a wide brimmed hat, causing a shadow to be formed across his face, but his bright eyes shone in the darkness. He had a beard that covered a large extent of his lips and face, but you could immediately see he had a quick tongue, and dimples when he smiled.
“Alfie Solomons,” he extended a hand in greeting. You shook his hand firmly.
“Alice Goodfellow,” you reply. He smiled at you before returning to his seat. He sat behind a large wooden desk. On the other side stood three leather chairs, Henry sat in one, so naturally you pull up the one next to him.
“We’re just waiting for one more to join our little party now.” Alfie said, running a hand through the hairs of his beard. Then, he reached down to a drawer on his side of the desk, pulling out two bottles and four glasses. He poured two whiskies, and pushed one glass towards Henry.
“Whisky or rum?” he asked.
“You seem like the kind of man who will analyse my choice, Mr Solomons.” You tease, trying to lighten the air. He chuckled at your remark. “I’ll let you decide.”
“Whisky first.” He stated, pouring you a glass of the brown liquid. “Rum for later.” Upon the word ‘later’, he raised his eyes, meeting yours. You blushed. Alfie intrigued you, possibly even more than Tommy did. He sat on the throne of his underground empire with poise and power, and yet he appeared humble. He was forward and open, but you could sense there were many layers to him and that he withheld many secrets. He finished pouring your drink and you took it from him graciously, raising your eyebrows as your hand brushed against the metal of the rings on his fingers. He grinned as he reclined back into his chair.
“Let’s get to business, Alfie, before the fourth member of our party arrives.” Henry said, cracking his knuckles in enthusiasm.
“The horse is ready for you.”
“And will this ‘orse win races?” Alfie leaned forwards, resting his chin on his interweaved knuckles and ring-clad fingers.
Henry smiled and winked. “If that is what you desire.” Your head shot up. By Henry’s and Alfie’s discussion it seemed your horses didn’t just win by training alone. Henry must be fixing races.
“Henry!” you say sharply. “We had stopped this! We agreed that we wouldn’t do that anymore!”
“Alice, don’t be naive.” Henry replied, equally as sharply. You sighed and flared your nostrils at him. “You know fully well that the refined world we live in is based on lies.”
“Well, your money may be dirty, but mine is always clean.” You say curtly, leaning back in your chair, picking your nails.
“My money is the same colour as yours, sister.” Was Henry’s reply.
Alfie watched the argument before him unfurl- he found the whole affair rather entertaining. He found it admirable in a person when they stood strong in their opinions, and when they were prepared to argue and fight for what they believed in. From the moment he saw you, he knew that you were strong-willed and not afraid of making a scene. He noticed the now healing cuts and bruises on your face and knew that you weren’t one to shy away from the predominantly man’s world you had found yourself in. He liked that your morals stood intact, despite the beating they were receiving from your brother, who you evidently loved a lot.
“Now, now, children! Alright! We get it, all money is the same colour at the end of the day, right.” Alfie interjected, knowing that the childish argument had ensued for long enough.
“Apologies, Alfie.” Henry conceded. He looked to you, awaiting your apology but you just turned your head. Alfie was left grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
The door behind the three of you suddenly opened, the force of the strong push it had received caused it to bang loudly against its wooden frame making the whole room shake. Immediately all eyes were on the man who had caused such a ruckus. Thomas Shelby.
“Mr Solomons,” muttered, trudging in not looking up from the floor. He stopped when he reached the three chairs opposite Alfie, looking up and immediately squinting as he realised it was you who was sat in one of them. “Alice?” You smile at his confused face. You watched his eyes leave your face and go towards Henry, then back to you as he put two and two together. He stretched out a hand towards Henry, “Mr Goodfellow.”
“Henry, please, Mr Shelby.” Henry smiled warmly back shaking Tommy’s hand.
It wasn’t long before the four of you were deep in discussion. Yourself and Tommy quickly filled Henry in on your deal, and Henry secured the sale of a filly to Alfie. You found yourself drifting in and out of the conversation, your eyelids once again becoming lead weights as you fought against the urge to sleep. In an attempted to occupy your mind and keep yourself awake, you began to fiddle with a ring on the fourth finger on your right hand.
“Another drink, love?” Alfie’s voice cut through your otherwise occupied mind. Before you had a chance to reply he had poured you a glass. Quickly you drank it in one, the strong taste of alcohol waking you up.
“Christ, Al!” Henry laughed. You smiled and laughed with him. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Alfie’s infectious grin, turning your head you also saw Tommy, whose eyes were fixed on Alfie in a hard, harsh stare.
“I forgot to ask, Tommy, how is our good friend May Carleton?” Alfie asked. Your head snapped up at the name, you new that was the ‘friend’ Tommy was staying with. Despite having slowed things down with Tommy, this news felt like a punch in the gut - you leaned back in your chair, exhaling and still twisting the ring on your finger.
“She’s well, thank you Alfie.” Tommy replied, his tone flat. His words were like another punch to the gut. You lean forwards in your chair, placing your ring on the desk so you could run your hands through your hair, an involuntary reaction you always had to displeasing news. Alfie seemed to gauge your reaction, making eye contact with you and raising an eyebrow. You met his eyes. A million things were running through your head at once: Tommy, Henry, Alfie, business, alcohol and now May Carleton. Everything felt overwhelming, and you were no longer in your own territory of Devon: you were in unknown land.
Alfie had the ability to analyse a person deeply with one glance. It was something he had been able to do since he was young, and his instincts on a person had never failed him yet. He could see that a range of complex thoughts and emotions were running amok in your head. In his opinion, business was something one had to pay one hundred percent attention to, and so he sought to end the meeting.
“Well, lady and gentlemen, this meeting is concluded.” Alfie stood, raising both arms out wide as he gesticulated each word. Tommy, Henry and yourself followed suite and stood too. Tommy shakes hands with you all, before charging out the room, his coat billowing out behind him. Henry and Alfie embrace in goodbye and you offer your hand for Alfie to shake. He didn’t take your hand, but pulled you into an embrace like your brother’s, his whole body shaking with his howling laughter. As you embraced he whispered into your ear “business is a personal thing, Miss Alice, if you can’t hug your partners they ain’t worth doing nothing with.” You blushed as you followed your brother out of the room.
After you had made plans for the next day with Henry, your car dropped you back at your hotel. Almost in a trance, you stumbled to your room, fingertips trailing along the wallpaper as you walked, feeling every bump and indentation in the intricate pattern. Instinctively, you go to take off your jewellery as soon as you enter the room; necklace first, followed by bracelets then rings. You pause when you reach your fingers.
Your ring was on the desk in Alfie’s office. Slumping back on your bed, you revel in your own recklessness, but, not being one for hanging around, you quickly call a car and take it back to the bakery.
The air of the bakery was different than it was before. It was quiet: the sounds of working men, heavy machinery and the tinny radio had all ceased and had been replaced by an uncomfortable silence. You were conscious of the sounds of your laboured breathing and shoes clicking along the corridor as you walked. Quickly, you pause to take off your shoes, meaning that you could effortlessly glide across the hard wooden panels.
You reached the room where Henry had been searched previously. Silently, you opened the door, hoping to slip past Alfie’s guards without causing too much of a stir. The guards were not stationed at the door as they were before: now there was only one guard, and he was slumped against the wall, blood cascading down his face from a wound at his forehead. You stifled your gasp as you took in the scene before you. Evidently, there had been a struggle, and Alfie, and now you, were in danger. You knelt before the guard, quickly and professionally checking his pulse and you sighed out of relief as you felt a weak pulse beneath your fingers. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, so ferociously in fact that you could practically feel it pushing against your rips as it pulsed, threatening to break free out of its boney cage. Ensuring the injured man was comfortable and safe, you placed a hand on the handle of the door leading to Alfie’s office. You could hear muffled, but passionate yelling. In haste, you pulled up your dress, taking out the gun from its holster on your thigh. Holding it up, you slowly open the door. As you walk down the next corridor, the muffled shouting became coherent words. Alfie’s thick accented cusses and exclamations were instantly recognisable.
“Well if I had your fucking money, I would fucking give it to ya wunnit I?!” You heard him yell.
“The money is missing, Solomons, we need it today.” A voice you didn’t recognise replied in an equally angry and loud tone.
“If Sabini wants the money I supposedly ‘ave he needs to come and get it ‘imself! Tell ‘im, from me, his friend, that I don’t fuck with people who can’t ‘andle their own fucking affairs themselves!”
You had reached the door to Alfie’s office. It was open, but you couldn’t see in properly. You lean against the wall, gun in hand, controlling your breathing to ensure it was completely silent. Slowly, gun first, you peak around the door frame: Alfie was stood behind his desk, facing the door. Opposite him, stood facing away from the door and you, was a man who you didn’t recognise. He had broad shoulders and greying hair, it was obvious from the tense way he was standing that he was stressed and perhaps even unsure about what he was doing. Definitely a messenger for whoever this Sabini is. Quickly, you scooted back to your hiding place behind the wall. You were confused: was Alfie in need of assistance?
The shouting between the two men ensued and seemed as if it would never reach a resolution.
“Mr Solomons, I need that money, today.” The man said firmly.
“I. Don’t. Have. Your. Fucking. Money. Mate.” Alfie said, pausing between each word and placing particular emphasis on the expletive. You took another peek at the scene unfurling before you, but this time you catch eyes with Alfie. He registers your presence, but shows no sign of this knowledge to the other man. You watch Alfie’s eyes make contact with the gun in your hand, then go back up to your eyes: a silent affirmation of your task.
“Well I’m sorry, Mr Solomons.” The man quickly pulls out a gun and points it directly at Alfie. Almost instantaneously, your gun was aimed at the back of the man’s head.
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