Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 37

Michael

Michael wraps a protective arm around Cal as they enter the Garrison. Her eyes widen a little in surprise at the gesture, but neither has time to dissect it for too long — May and Esme quickly swoop in, as though they've been waiting for her.

"You're the banker," May says, eyeing Calloway with interest, while Esme has already taken Cal's hand in her own, muttering something about heart and fate lines, clearly already half-drunk.

Calloway nods, her gaze shifting between the two. "Yes, that's me." Michael notes the hint of uncertainty in her voice, unsure of what to expect from this encounter.

He sees Cal's shoulders relax as May speaks, smiling politely. "Well, we've heard quite a bit about you. Michael couldn't stop talking about his mysterious banker."

Michael rolls his eyes at May's remark, but a small smile tugs at his lips. "Don't listen to her, she's just trying to stir up trouble."

Esme offers a warm smile. "We're thrilled to finally meet you. Pol's told us you might be doing some work for the family?"

Calloway's tension dissipates as she senses the genuine warmth radiating from May and Esme. Michael, himself, finds he can finally relax, if only momentarily before faced with his cousins.

"We're always in need of someone with financial expertise," May says, with a twinkle in her eye. "The Shelby business can get quite... intricate."

"Enough of this talk," Esme declares. "Come and have a drink."

Calloway glances back to Michael with a shrug and a smile as the pair lead her to a table, where Polly's already sat chatting to somebody. Michael sees his mum stand and hug Calloway in greeting, embracing her like she's already a member of the family.

The thought swells him with pride, and also makes him feel a little sick. True, Esme and May manage to stay out of trouble — but they haven't already been beaten within an inch of their lives and left with a note declaring war.

"I hope you've ordered me a fucking whiskey," he mutters to Isaiah, as his best friend greets him with a clap on the back.

"Got a full bottle on the table," he replies. "Arthur's doing a stocktake. Seemed glad to be rid of it."

Michael fights a groan. "On the busiest night of the fucking week?"

"You'll have enough work to keep you busy tomorrow, won't you?" Isaiah remarks.

Michael sits at the table, where John nods and grins in greeting, otherwise occupied with a game of cards with Finn. Michael doesn't catch what's at stake, but can see it's important enough to have both brothers deeply focused in concentration, a rare sight once whiskey begins flowing in these amounts.

Isaiah holds out a cigarette in offering. "What a fucking day," he tells Michael.

Michael can't help but glance guiltily towards Calloway before accepting. She seems utterly at ease, however — laughing and speaking with the others. He relaxes a little once more. His Mum won't let any harm come to her.

"What's happened?" He asks, drawing in the cigarette.

"Robbery went wrong on the south end," Isaiah says. "Some fucking idiot from London. Tommy asked a few of us to clean it up."

As always, Michael can't help but feel a flare of jealousy at Isaiah's involvement in the business — the real business, the one his mum won't let him anywhere near. At least not in any way she could know about. "What happened?" He asks.

"Moving bodies, mostly. Got a nice load of guns though," he remarks, pulling a golden revolver from his jacket and handing it to Michael.

He turns the weapon over in his fingers. "Mind if I keep this?" He asks.