Zoey Richardson
A treasured social elite or a criminal Cleopatra?
A cunning young woman or simply a lucky naive girl?
Widower or murderess?
Traitor or victim?
Duality had always played a role in this authentically zealous woman's life. On the out...
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The Shelby boys had settled in the garrison backroom. Tommy puffed on his cigarette with a distant look in his eyes, Arthur working on finishing his 4th glass of Irish whiskey, and Finn sat in between his older brothers looking slightly out of place while John began slamming the drinks he'd gotten from the bar onto the table. "Well, Finn, you have got two choices, mild or mild."
Fin gave a cheeky smile, shaking his head before replying with a light laugh "Mild."
"Here you go," John slid it over.
"Where're the new misses John-boy, believe I ought to apologize for the grief I caused," Arthur asked him, a smile began to slip at the memory of her calling him up and kicking off.
"I don't know," John dismissed the question, taking a gulp of his beer, secretly hoping his brother would drop the subject of Zoey Richardson.
"I would hope you do John, I put you in charge of her security for a reason." Tommy chimed in, inhaling a smooth toke.
"Trouble in paradise already ey?" Arthur teased, urging a humored smirk from Tommy and Finn.
"Fuck off Arthur," John grumbled before the door opened and the family began to share their congratulations to Micheal for his new job in the business. But all the while, in the back of John's head he could only think about how bad he felt about what happened between him and Zoey. She had locked herself in Katie's room for most of the day and avoided him like the plague which was surprisingly impressive seeing as it was his house.
The cold was one of the last things on her mind as she trudged through the muddy grey streets of small health. Adjusting her fur coat so it hugged her even tighter and shielded her bare chest against the bitter gusts, she sucked on her cigarette until her lungs had filled with its soothing nicotine. "Wait!" She yelled, catching the attention of Thomas Shelby who was just about to board the canal boat to London, "I'm coming with you." She informed him as he paused mid-step so one foot was on land and the other was on the boat, turning to her with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips and a blank gaze.
