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Tommy Shelby liked to know things. Whether it was to use to his advantage or to pocket away for later, he always wanted to know.
Alfie Solomon was a wildcard at best. His erratic alliance kept Tommy on his toes, always looking for an edge. It burned him to not have Alfie figured out. Alfie would just as soon choose another ally and leave Tommy in a pool of his own blood, so any small tidbit could be the information that keeps Camden town's leader on his side.
Tommy could not find Alfie's pattern. He had fought in the war. He was tied to his community through his faith, and he had one rule that never changed, no matter the job.
"Stay the fuck away from our women, yeah?" Alfie always said. "They're off the fucking menu."
At first, Tommy thought it was remnants of old decency left in the man. A man who had a dash of chivalry left even if he took it upon himself to perform stigmata on an Italian. But the more Tommy watched Alfie, the more he began to question whether the man had chivalry at all.
Alfie didn't specifically attack women, but he didn't shy away from plans if women were there and could get hurt. Epsom taught Tommy that.
Perhaps it was faith. Alfie didn't want his men to lose options to marry by losing women to men who did not share their values. But Alfie had no problems looking at a pretty woman as she walked by. Alfie did his best not to stare, but no business kept his eyes from a beautiful woman.
And then he found the reason. Tommy didn't have a purpose, but he had to let Alfie know that he knew. That he was the only one that knew. It burned him not to.
"What's the meeting about, Tommy boy?" Alfie asked as he collapsed into the chair on the other side of Tommy's desk. "I was told I had to come all the way to hell, right? To the hell that is Small Heath, to see you about an offer I couldn't resist. What's the offer? Are you signing your businesses to me after all, as such a good friend would do."
"I've got an American contact for you," Tommy said, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped on his chest. "Might be able to get your rum to Boston."
"Well, where is he?" Alfie said, dramatically looking around the room. "Hide him under your desk?"
Tommy tapped the button on his desk. "Now, Lizzie."
Alfie raised an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder, and all color left his face.
"Hello, Alfred." She said in the same light, airy voice he still heard in his dreams.
"Doing his business now, are you?" He said softly, but there was no fire in his voice.
His eyes were trained on her like she would disappear if he blinked. He drank her in.
She floated in a flowy embroidered dress, her headscarf a bright yellow with birds on it. She always loved yellow. Alfie gulped.
She sat in a chair beside Alfie, her hands shaking on her lap.
"I've been told you need friends in America to sell your rum," she said, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "What are your agreements?"
Alfie licked his lips before looking from her eyes to her hands, where a gold ring shone brightly, hurting his eyes.
"Still married to the wop, then?" He asked hoarsely. "Where did Tommy find you? Fuck."
Alfie winced.
"Shit," he started, wincing again. "Ah fuck. I'm sorry. Um, I'm a bit rusty to be in mixed company."
They spoke logistics and bartered into an agreement. She kept her light voice and soft smile the entire time. Much to Tommy's surprise, Alfie's voice softened, and his normal erratic behavior vanished. Alfie was soft in ways Tommy would never dream possible.
Once they agreed, she reached out and took Alfie's hand for a moment, patting it before she stood up and left. The door quietly clicked shut as Tommy watched Alfie closely.
Alfie wiped his face before turning back to Tommy, eyebrows dropping to shade his eyes.
"Tommy," he growled. "I'm starting to think this was on purpose. How else do you dust off that big of a fucking skeleton from my closet?"
"She's a widow," Tommy said before taking a cigarette out and lighting it. "Keeps the ring as cover."
"What?"
Tommy inhaled, savoring Alfie's undivided attention and confusion.
"She took over when her husband found himself on the wrong end of a gun," he exhaled. "Keeps the ring as cover so they think she's doing her husband's bidding instead of her own."
Alfie swallowed. His mouth was dry.
"How did you find her, Tommy?" Alfie's voice sounded young, like all those years ago when she was in his arms.
Tommy wanted to remember every detail of Alfie. Every reaction, every slip of his mask. Every detail of his vulnerability. Tommy took a long draw of his cigarette. He almost felt bad. Almost.
"Love isn't soft, like those poets say," Tommy exhaled. "Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close."