The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Seven

"Amelia, don't you like the dress Grace picked out for you?" Tommy asked, plucking a cigarette from his container. He looked over at his fiance, showing her the smoke. "Hm?" She nodded, taking it. The young girl was hardly in the talking mood, but forced herself to squeeze out a meek yes. The dress was nice; a light blue with long sleeves. The neckline and cinched waist were embroidered with white flowers. Tommy specifically asked for nothing closely resembling a flapper style and he hated the straight look on the girl. To Ada, it was boring and old, and perhaps it was. But! She looked like a good girl in it; innocent, elegant, and sweet. Most of all, she looked pretty.

Finn certainly thought so when he had to go "check" on his room.

Grace leaned in for Tommy to light her cigarette. "I found it at a small shop on Catherine's," she said, in a blow of smoke. "I thought the blue would match her eyes, and it did. You have really pretty eyes, Amelia." Gently, she pinched Amelia's chin, smiling. "Pretty girl."

Amelia didn't feel pretty, not really. Especially not with the pound of powder covering the redness from Tommy's hands. Grace gave him a slight talking, and asked for him to apologize. Thomas Shelby was not one to apologize, but to please his future wife, he said he would. Said he would. Unfortunately for Amelia, that kind gesture of accountability would never make it to her ears.

Tommy nodded in agreement. "When she tries to be, yes-"

"We better not have a girl," Grace teased, turning to her future husband, tapping his freshly shaven cheek. "You should be kinder-"

"Grace." Grace was the only one able to give Tommy Shelby a certain look without any repercussions. Simply, whacked his forearm before sitting straight. "You do look very nice, Amelia. I don't quite like the red on her lips, though. I told Ada...a girl, I want her to look like a girl. The red is a fuckin' whore color-"

"I'm wearing red, Thomas," Grace said, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, but you're a woman," he agreed. "Looks fine on you, but her! It's too much...Finn nearly broke the clasp on his trousers. And the man at the counter, the ticket counter, I mean! You see the way he looked at her? Don't like it. Not a bit...." Amelia sighed and grabbed a tissue from her purse and went to wipe it, but Grace slid to the opposite side of the table, helping her.

"I have a rose tinted lip rouge in my purse," she said. "A lighter pink." With some of Tommy's rum, she carefully removed most of the red leaving behind puffy lips and a light stain. "Here. Better?" After neatly dabbing on some pinkish tint, she handed Amelia the mirror. Red, pink, fucking blue...all the same to the angsty girl who'd just soiled herself a few hours before. Thomas nodded in approval.

"We're going to the drink cart," Thomas said, standing. "I'll get you sparkling water. Maybe some chocolate." He opened the sliding door, allowing Grace to slip out first. Amelia nodded and resumed sulking, looking out the train window. They still had a good ninety minutes left, and she was getting restless.