WRITTEN FOR ME ( thomas shelby )

003 ━ Irish Trouble ..

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" Irish Trouble "

          THOUGH IT HAD BEEN HER CHOICE to walk a significant distance towards the Garrison alone that early afternoon, Jackie found herself falling victim to a case of acute melancholia while subjected to the humid air of Small Heath and the busy, but scarcely pleasant streets. It was in places like these that she missed the comfort of her home the most, such that even her easiest mask to wear — that of a compliant woman with not a care in the world — flickered out existence to reveal grimaces and threatening frowns.

Somewhere not so far behind, she knew Gene was following her, keeping a low profile and an unsuspecting distance, but even his presence's promise of safety did not cure her overarching uneasiness, not so much because of the attention she already expected to be receiving when she decided to wear one of her finer dresses for the meeting, but rather with the overall ambiance that this side of town presented itself to her.

The night before, she had memorized the way from the street where they've parked their automobile to the Garrison, but she will be first to admit she might have underestimated the distance she needed to walk. Right as she was contemplating turning back and leaving this ridiculous quest of asserting dominance for another day and another means too, a car pulled besides her. Being met with the end of a pistol's barrel standing out of the window, held by a driver whose trigger finger was twitching, Jackie was forced to fall to a stop.

"Get in the car," a tough, yet familiar accent greeted her.

"Do you not remember me, Freddie?" Jackie didn't make a single move to follow his order, holding her only clear motion to be her eyebrows rising.

"Nurse Alloways," he called her as he used to back in Frace, "do us both a favor and get in the car."

"Good," Jackie nodded. "You do remember me, hence this is exactly how you treat someone responsible for you still being alive. Wonderful to know." She stalled to look back the way she came, locking eyes with her brother, a little further down the street, grasping his own pistol from his coat. Though discreet, she shook her head.

"Get in the fucking—"

"No need to shout, Freddie boy," Jackie opened the backseat door and locked eyes with the second Irish man waiting for her there. She sighed, acting bemused with her careless smile even as she entered such an obviously dangerous position. She closed the door and got comfortable in her seat with her purse in her lap, between her hands and watched Freddie pass the gun onto his friend, a bald fellow whose gaze upon her was downright disgusting. "Where are we going?"

"For a ride," the bald fellow answered. "We got some concerns regarding the deal your brother's men—"

"I am not talking to you," Jackie interrupted him without a single glance to his pistol pointed at her. She looked ahead, into the rear mirror so she good catch Freddie's eyes every each second while he drove off. "I'll talk with who I know, and right now, I only know you, Freddie, so talk."

Enraged bewilderment radiated off of the man to her right, however, Freddie was bound to sigh. "Why did you get involved with this business, Jackie?"

"I was tired of seeing blood every day, so you best believe I quit being a nurse the second my brothers got rich enough for me not to need that job anymore," Jackie replied leaning back in her seat and rolling her shoudlers down. "Is this how you roll these days? Threaten women you haven't seen in a while with guns in order to check in on them?"

"We're the one asking the questions here..."

"I'm not talking to you," Jackie spoke her reminder louder to the man besides her.