𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 🍞PEAKY BLINDERS 🥖

Chapter Thirty-Four

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Ozzy didn't know much about Kezia's childhood. The family kept it that way.

She confessed things at times, but he never felt brave enough to push. Tommy and the brothers warned him, threatening him that the wrong question could result in a breakdown. And his broken face.

He knew she couldn't read. Or write or do math. So, it was quite the site to see her know the exact train fare and which streets to turn on.

"Thank you for coming with me," she told him, once on the train.

"I don't mind."

"I know you don't have much of a choice, but it still feels nice to have you here."

Ozzy smiled. "You say jump, I ask how high."

Her blue eyes searched his face. "I wouldn't make you jump."

"Oh, no. O-of course not. It's just a saying."

Realization lit her face. "A joke. I'm sure it's a funny one."

It took Ozzy time to understand that she never said anything sarcastically. Or to be funny. She was just authentic. To a fault.

He had never known anyone like her. Not personally, anyway. When their cousin, Michael, came into the family, Ozzy had some jealousy for him. He bonded with Kezia instinctually. And it only served to better integrate him into the family. He had her approval—which meant he had Tommy's approval.

"You grew up in London."

Ozzy cleared his throat to refocus himself. "I did."

"Do you know Camden Town?"

"I do."

"What about Alfie Solomons?"

"I do." But he wished he didn't. "Did some work for him and his people. He's, uhm..."

She smiled. "Angry."

"Very. Got worse a few years ago. Then got to fighting with the Italians and it was no longer safe to be a street kid who wasn't Jewish or Italian."

"We're going to his bakery."

Ice penetrated his veins. "Oh." Then came the bile up his throat. "Okay. Tommy didn't tell me about any job for me in Camden Town."

"Nothing for Tommy." The smallest frown tugged at her lips. "Not really, anyway."

"Got it." This was one of the times when asking any more was dangerous. Despite every urge to ask, "What in the absolute fuck are we doing?"

She said no more for the rest of the trip, and neither did Ozzy.

The city didn't change. The smell of smoke and meat still greeted him once he left the station. Jewish merchants and families lined the streets, ranging from the rigid Orthodox to the...less rigid. As a child, Ozzy made some friends with the Jewish boys in the complex his family lived in.

With the escalating war between Sabini and Solomons, Ozzy expected the city to be in far more dire conditions. It was almost impossible to believe that just some blocks away, the invisible line protecting the Jewish community in Camden Town shrank by the day. But Mr. Solomons was nothing if not a savage protector of his community.

The bread he made was rubbish. Ozzy was offered some after every job he did. Instead of shillings. But when Solomons felt generous, he'd throw a few in Ozzy's direction.

The bell over the door put him on edge.

"Welcome!" the man behind the counter greeted. "What can I get started for you two today?"

Ozzy did not miss the man's reluctance. He and Kezia were foreigners.

"Hello," she said. "I am here to see Alfie."

Alfie?

Not Mr. Solomons. Not Alfred. Not Alfred Solomons.

Kezia didn't catch emotions as quickly as others did. Her "rudeness" and bluntness rubbed strangers the wrong way. So she completely missed the anger that sparked in the man's eyes. The utter mistrust that marred his face.

"Who are you?"

"Kizzie Shelby." She looked at Ozzy's worried face. "This is my friend, Ozzy. He's also my bodyguard because my brother—"

"Follow me."

Kezia tugged Ozzy's sleeve when he didn't move his feet. Was the Mad Baker expecting them? The man behind the counter paled at hearing the name Shelby. It was no secret that Tommy and Solomons had begun a partnership. Maybe this was some big plan. Kezia had a habit of trying to help her brothers when they believed otherwise. But this?

Very few and very unannounced strangers went into the Mad Baker's lair and came out alive. Ozzy had seen first hand the bodies Solomons got his hands on.

A young man with curly black hair wearing an apron met them at the end of the hall. They were underground, where the distillery was located. "What's this?"

"Said she wanted to see the boss. Name is Kizzie Shelby."

"Hello."

The man sized her up before finding Ozzy behind her. "And you?"

Ozzy smiled, sharp and disingenuous. "Ozzy. I protect Ms. Shelby."

"But he's also my friend."

The bakery worker was an awkward middle piece between them. "Didn't the boss say to let in Shelbys if they came by?"

"He did. But he said nothing about an Ozzy."

Kezia nodded. "Okay. He can stay here. Or upstairs." She looked at her friend. "I'll be back in a bit."

Ozzy couldn't exactly deny her. Whatever she said went. And as he watched her shrinking form down the hall, he prayed that he wouldn't have to rescue her.

Even when his heart told him she'd be absolutely fine.

Kizzie followed the young man down and to the right. The walkway was poorly lit, with just a single room on the far end bright with golds and yellows.

"Stay here," he told her.

"Okay." Kizzie rested her back against the wall and drew circles into the dirty floor with her boot.

He knocked on the door. "Boss?"

"What?"

That tickle bloomed again in her stomach. Kizzie was eager. No, not eager. Completely ecstatic to be here. She dug her boot harder against the floor.

"There's a Shelby here to see you."

There was silence before the door unlocked and opened. Kizzie was bombarded with the smell of spice and bright golds and yellows.

Alfie found the Shelby in question and would have fallen over sideways if he had not put all his weight on the open door.

"Fuckin' hell."

Kizzie smiled. "Hello."

Author's Note:

Next chapter by Friday maybe?