Riples and Waves

Trust

Tommy's POV

3 Months Later

"This is not working," Tommy said, before going into his town office and leaving the door open for her.

He heard her soft, annoyed sigh while she got up from her desk and came in behind him. He stayed standing with his back turned to her, staring at books he would never read. The door made an almost inaudible clicking sound as it closed and the chair across his desk creaked under his secretary's weight.

"What seems to be the problem then, Sir?" Anna asked, in the professional tone that sounded a little amused to Tommy's ears.

He took a few breaths that were meant to be deep, but never quite touched the bottom of his lungs. How could he explain the unadulterated hatred most of the MP's awakened in him? How they made the sound of shovels ring in his ears and the smell of mud penetrate his mind. How the way they casually discussed new laws, without ever considering their effect on the little people, brought back the hopeless claustrophobia of waiting for the cavalry while buried alive.

"They don't listen to me." He said. Only turning towards her when he was absolutely sure his expression held nothing beyond cold hate. "I'm not like them."

"And by that you mean, of course, that while you have a chip on your shoulder, they were born with a silver spoon shoved up their asses. Right?" Anna said with a small grin.

"A chip on my shoulder?" He leaned over the black leather chair and stared at her.

"Look Tommy, I can appease your ego, or I can tell you the truth. What would you prefer?" Anna's voice got sweeter, and she leaned back in her chair.

"The truth."

"They don't vote with you because they don't like you, and really, I can't see why they would. You treat people like they're your whores and then expect them to like it. That's just not how it works."

"It has worked for me." He said, gesturing slightly to the expensive room around them.

"Sure it did. Because the people you need to trust you are your family, over which you have innate power, so of course they do. They don't really have a choice do they?" Anna jumped up and started to prepare drinks for them while continuing her speech. Gesturing with the glasses while making her point. "From everybody else... Well, they are so poor that whatever amount of money or power you give them is enough to convince the bastards that Tommy Shelby wants them to have a better life. So they don't even notice how little they actually matter. And I don't really blame you for thinking this way. You consider yourself a whore, so why the hell would you think differently of anybody else?" She walked back in his direction and offered him his glass of Irish whiskey. "White, rich men were raised to believe that they are above that. Whether or not you agree, Tommy. They will act accordingly."

Tommy reached for the cup and took his measured sip while watching her glide back to her seat. He missed the simplicity of the business transactions he had enjoyed so far. He could act his part just as well as any other Gypsy worth his tricks, but he was so fucking tired of it.

"God, you look like I just told you to bring me the moon!" She laughed. "Make some friends, invite a few guys to smoke nasty cigars in a dark room while you talk trash about your wives, throw a party or something! It's not rocket science Tommy!" She threw her hands in the air, frustrated, and then brought them back by sliding her fingers through her black, recently cut, hair.

"A party?" How was that going to help? Tommy snorted to himself.

"Yes, a fucking party! You know, a social gathering where people drink and laugh and have fun... One where nobody gets shot, if at all possible, too." She grinned, but her eyes were serious. "Polly says the Peaky Blinders have trouble with that part."

He should tell Polly to stop telling war stories over their weekly lunch. "And that is not treating them like whores... how?" It was just how the world worked. Give and take, supply and demand. He drank a little more.

"This is an investment, not a transaction, Tommy. More like wooing a woman if you will. If, come next month, after all of our efforts, they still choose not to vote with you in the new syndicate law, there will be no retribution. You will keep treating them in the exact same way. Most of them will do the same and when their companies are crashing because of the strikes, they will come to you for advice. They will do it the next time as well and before you know it, they trust you."

"And we all hug and watch the fucking sunset, eh?" He snorted. Her olive tinted face turned to stone before his eyes. Yanked back to reality she squared her shoulders with his, a slim blue vein slightly visible in her forehead.

Tommy was never rude simply for the sheer entertainment value of it. It was just that politeness was a direct opposite to objectivity. Rudeness on the other hand, was sure to always draw out the most sincere reactions, and he had no patience for social interpretations of others intentions. Particularly not with his own people.

Anna rose from the chair. Her movements were just as gracious as before, but lacking the lightness he had started to associate with her in their time working together. She went around the mahogany desk, leaned her ass against the edge of it and put her hands on his shoulders. The scent of cherry surrounding him most certainly came from her perfume, but it matched the shade of her lips so well that he imagined it to be her breath. She had faint smile lines around her mouth, but her lips were a thin line as she leaned her weight on her left hand, keeping him in place while the right hand unholstered the gun strapped to his ribs on the right side.

Tommy's heartbeat sped up, but his practiced indifferent expression stayed in place. 'This is all extra,' he repeated in his mind. 'I was supposed to be dead already'.

The gun, however, was not pressed to his temple, or his heart. Anna jerked back, his chair lurched forward with the absence of pressure. She readied the gun for a shot in the time it took for him to blink. Then his hand was around the gun and her hands around his, thumbs pressing his index finger on the trigger. Anna's eyes once again locked on his, she brought their hands up and placed the gun to her forehead.

"If you can't trust me, then you can kill me, Tommy."

Charged, oppressive silence hung between them. Could she see him debating the options in his head? Was it even possible to hide? He couldn't verbalize to his own mind what he wanted to do about her. With her. To her. But his index finger fought against hers to escape the trigger. Wasn't that answer enough?

"No," Tommy decided.

Anna held his gaze for a second more and then released his hand just as quickly as she had arrested it. She pushed herself from the edge of his desk, turned her back stalked over to the door, opened it and turned to him.

"Then you better start taking me seriously." The soft click of the closing door slammed through his bones.