chapter twenty-nine

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Birmingham, 1919

"Isabella! If you're done, come here! I'm going to lock up!" Tommy shouted towards the backroom where Isabella had been vomiting for the past hour.

He sighed as he remained standing alone in the bar after Polly had come, slapped him and went, his brothers following after her. Only Nicholas had remained with him for a handful of minutes, not wanting to leave without Isabella, finally leaving after Tommy reassured him, he'd bring her safely home once she finished throwing up her guts. Even Grace had somehow managed to slip out without him noticing.

"Fucking hell." She muttered as she stumbled out from the backroom. "I feel emptier than a bottle of air."

She made her way to Tommy before she, all but, fell down on a barstool. "What was all that ruckus?"

He raised his brows. "You heard the ruckus but not what it was about?"

"I was a little preoccupied trying to keep my intestines inside my body."

"How'd that go for you?" He made his way around the bar counter and placed two glasses in front of her.

"I'm quite sure I almost died." She dramatically said as she crossed her arms on the counter and laid her head down on them. Watching as he poured whiskey into the glasses.

"What do you know of death, eh?"

"It'd probably hurt less than this shit."

He nodded. "You're probably right about that."

"I'm always right." She shrugged before she reached one of her hands forward to grab the glass closest to her.

"I know." He took a big gulp from his drink. "Coppers came and took Freddie."

"Freddie? From where?"

"Ada's side."

"Ada's side?" Isabella raised her brows in surprise. "When'd he grow a cock? Aren't you lovers supposed to be quarreling?"

"Lovers, eh?" He raised his brow at her choice of words.

"Mhm."

"He hasn't grown a cock, there's a truce till sunrise. At least there was."

"Was? What'd you do?" She took a small sip of her whiskey, not wanting to throw it up as well. "Call the coppers yourself?" She chuckled. "Shut up. You didn't?"

"Not you too." He groaned. "Do you think so little of me?"

"You want the truth?"

He thought about it for a second. "Not particularly."

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