Heavy is the Head ||A Peaky Blinder Fanfic||

2| In or Out

"Where are we going now?" Mollie May questioned as George pulled a briefcase out of the Bentley. He tipped the money from Chino's restaurant into it, closed it and began to walk off. "The next errand." He smiled back at her.

She huffed and stalked after him, the £25 burning in her coat pocket. "First of all, you need to get yourself better clothes." He looked at her cheap floral dress which hung loosely under her coat. It was a size too big and had multiple rips in it.

"Christ, that's awful. Here," He handed her a roll of money, "You represent me now, get yourself a nice dress, or a suit. Couple of nice scarves and gloves. Heeled shoes, you know them type the women in Paris have." She nodded, falling into step beside him.

"What's your colour?" "What do you mean, what's my colour?" "Everyone has a colour. You know, like the colour that looks best on them or the colour they wear the most. Like red or green or black." "Uh, burgundy, I suppose." "Get yourself burgundy clothes then."

People pushed past them on the pavement, and chatter filled the little shop streets. George stopped outside a pub. "Here we are." They entered the pub which was dimly lit and the smell of stale ale hit them like a train. George walked over to the till and opened it, taking all the money and putting it into his briefcase.

"Alright, that's us for the day, Jimmy. See you soon." He waved goodbye and headed out the door again. "That wasn't as hard." Mollie May stated shocked as they headed to the next place. "Yeah, we own it, that's why. All the profits come to us one way or another. The workers are paid by us so if we don't get the profit, they don't get their wages." Mollie May thought about it for a little while, her thoughts lingering on 'we' and 'us'. "So, your business pays them. I thought your business was..." she trailed off not speaking the obvious answer of extortion, blackmail and robbery. "Who told you that?" "It's not that hard to figure out. The fear in Chino's eyes, the way you dress, the car you drive." They continued to walk in silence. 

"Leon told me." She said quietly, thinking back to the conversation they had had. She twisted her ring on her finger, stopping her mind from wondering back to Leon.

"Oh, he did, did he." George smirked and nodded. "What else did he tell you, huh? That I was a terrible father. That I'm a murderer." "Yeah, he might have mentioned those things too." She whispered. Her eyes never leaving George as he muttered under his breath. Mollie May didn't know if she was supposed to be afraid of him. She didn't feel frightened. Yes, he done bad things, but so had Arthur and she wasn't afraid of him.

"I take it that you inviting me to join your business means you're not going to kill me, so as long as you never try to murder me, I don't care what you are." She paused, "It just so happens I'm a murderer too." George laughed, "My son fell in love with the thing he despised the most."

Mollie May frowned. They headed into another restaurant and George gathered together the money from the till. "It's poetic really. My son wanted a clean life, probably in the countryside or somewhere out of the way. And instead of that he ended up marrying another gangster. I tell you, Mollie May, he must have really loved you to give up his dream. He proved me right, after all those years."

"What did he prove?" "That once you enter this life, you can't escape it and the only way you get out is in a body bag." Her eyes stung at the thought. George walked past her and back onto the street, "Don't cry. It's the truth. Leon knew it too." "I'm not crying." she growled back at him.

"Good. You hungry?" he asked her and she nodded desperately. "Come on." He led her through the door of another Italian restaurant. This one was much busier than the other, with people bustling round. Waiters ran around the place with plates of delicious pasta dishes and continuous shouts came from the kitchen at the back. Music played in the background and a constant ding of the till as it opened and closed rapidly with the new influxes of money.

"Waiter!" George yelled and one ran over, "Would you like a table, sir? Allow me to take your coats." They gave him their coats which he hung on one of many coat stands before waking them to their table. "Your menu, sir, ma'am." And then he hurried off to collect another dish.

"I highly recommend this." George said pointing to a dish on her menu. "Best I've tasted. Have you ever had Italian food?" Mollie May shook her head, "I normally have to stick to milk, bread and eggs. Money doesn't normally allow me to go very exotic."

"Ah, yes. How is your job." Mollie May looked at the older man across the table. She couldn't think of any reason not to, but something told her she should be careful about the information she gave away.

"It's fine. A little quiet at the moment, but there are always times like that." "When's the last time you've seen a steady income of money?" he asked her quietly. The question caught her off guard and she smiled hesitantly as she wracked her brains to think. The last time she had a steady income, must have been in Edinburgh. That must have been like four years ago.

She nearly choked, "Four years ago, I think." It shocked her. "When's the last time you've seen any money come into your hand?" She had to think again. It wasn't recently. "A month or so again."

"The Peaky Blinders don't pay you?" He seemed surprised when she shook her head, "I don't work for them. I mean, I do odd jobs here and there, but I'm not like, I'm not like-" she struggled to find the right words but George seemed to understand.

He leaned closer to her, "How would you feel, if-" "Sir, your dish." The waiter interrupted and George sat back and grinned, "Thank you." "Ma'am, your food." She smiled as he put the plate down in front of her.

George looked around and leaned closer to her again, afraid of being overheard. "How would you feel, if I could pay you every week. The prices would fluctuate of course, depending on our takings," he gestured around at the restaurant, "But I can guarantee you, you'll get money every week."

He leaned out again, "Now, I know I've already implied," he over emphasised the word, "that you're in, but at the end of the day, if you don't want to do it, you don't want to do it. And I just want to highlight to you here, that your either in or out, you can't be a middle man who can't make up his mind, alright. It doesn't work like that."

She thought about it for a while. It would be no difference than being in the Peaky Blinders and at the moment she had nothing to lose. She nodded her head after a couple of quiet minutes.

"Okay." He paused, "If you need anything, you come to me, alright. I'm your guy. Try to stay out of trouble, you're a smart girl anyway, but I got to tell you, just in case. I vouch for you, so you screw up and it's my head on the chopping block as well as yours. I brought you in so I'll go out with you too." She nodded.

"Right, let's eat. Come on, food's getting cold." He laughed and she smirked too. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe she'd quite like it.