"Mia you're coming with me to London, pack your stuff- we're leaving tomorrow." Thomas told the girl, who nodded in response. "Business?" She questioned, "with the Italians." He added, lighting a cigarette and dismissing her.
"Fucking Italian business my arse." She swore, leaving Tommys office.
Mia got her stuff packed up and ready for the next day, Thomas informed her that they'd be travelling by boat; It would be a three day journey- great.
To Mia's surprise however, the journey didn't go so badly. Tommy had slept through the majority of it- with an occasional few nightmares in which, she aided him through.
"We're here," gentle hands shook the girl awake. She opened her eyes, wiping the sleep away before looking up at Tommy. "Why'd you let me sleep in for so long?" She asked, "Mia you've barely slept the whole ride. I thought I'd do you a favour and let you sleep the rest of it- at least." He told the girl, cupping her cheek and grazing a thumb over the flushed skin.
CAMDEN TOWN,
The two partners walked down the streets of Camden Town, earning curious looks from all of the workers. They were stopped at an archway by a lanky brunette boy. "Ollie, put him down mate. He's only little," a male voice boomed down the corridor. A handsome man approached the scene, "is it only you two?" He asked, darting his eyes from Thomas to Mia. "Seems so," Thommy replied, following the gangsters lead. "Well you're a brave lad- ain't you?"
"Come take a look at my bakery." The man instructed, gesturing for them to continue to follow him. "We bake all sorts in here mate- yeah," he told Tommy. "Ten thousan' loaves a week!" He continued, Mia turned to look at Ollie on her right; she gave him a small smile, which he of course returned, "We bake the white bread 'nd we bake the brown bread," the man who's name was still unknown to Mia- continued to ramble on.
"Try some of this mate," he passed a cup of whiskey- or God knows what, to Tommy. "Not too bad," he said as he took another sip of the beverage. "Not bad eh? It's fuckin' awful that stuff, the fucking brown stuffs awful. For the workers- yeah." Thomas looked down at Mia, "Try some." He instructed, she reluctantly took a sip- pulling a sour face as the liquid reached her tongue.
"See, she knows what the proper stuffs meant to taste like- what's your name love?" The gangster asked, smiling softly at the young woman. "Mia, Mia Thorne." She told him, returning a smile. "Pleasure love- absolute pleasure." He complimented, shaking her hand welcomingly. "Alfie Solomon's," he introduced.
~
"Well, I've heard very bad- bad things about you Birmingham people." Alfie told Thomas, leaning back in his chair. Mia sat fidgeting with her fingers as the men rambled. "Gypsies- yeah, do you live in a fuckin' tent or a caravan?" Alfie asked, earning a laugh from Mia. "A tent Solomon's, we do magic tricks and shit in there- y'know." She replied sarcastically.
"I like her, I like her!" Alfie told Tommy, who looked unimpressed. "I came here to discuss business with you Mr Solomon's," he interrupted. "Well, rum is for fun and fucking isn't it. Now whiskey," Alfie said, pulling out a bottle of it from under his desk. "Let's talk business first." Thomas declined, Alfie stared at the man blankly, rubbing a hand over his beard. "Suit yourself,"
The three finally managed to discuss some business, "I don't like police men, they can't be trusted." Alfie said, Tommy nodded. "Mr Sabini uses policemen all the time, that's why he's winning the war in London and you are loosing it," he stated. Alfie's eyes turned dark at the man's words. "A war ain't over till it's over, mate."
...
"I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian, stuck a six each nail up his nose- I did. Fuckin' biblical mate." Alfie said as his eyes met Mia's, beginning to admire her features. Sharp cheekbones, light brown eyes, soft brown hair. Tommy noticed the man checking the girl out, he clenched his jaw and returned back to business.
"Yeah mate- see you again." Mr Solomon's dismissed the two. Business with the Jewish gangster was finally over.
Or so Mia thought, receiving a letter in the post the next week.
From Alfie Solomon's himself.
~
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