We Meet Again (Thomas Shelby)

Chapter Seven: Why So Secretive?

Sorina's POV:

        Working at the Garrison, even with its crazy moments, was actually quite fun after awhile. I began to learn a lot from Harry. I never knew there were so many strange facts about alcohol, but Harry seemed to know it all. It was interesting how different certain liquors were from each other, and how invested he was in it all. He loved his pub, even when some people didn't respect the building the way they should. Tips started piling up as the days went on; apparently a lot of people like me. In fact, one man has nicknamed me 'Light' because I was, "The light to any room.". What a compliment that was.

        There was one other benefit to working at the Garrison; seeing the Shelby's almost every night. It was like clockwork. Seven o'clock the boys rolled in, ordered the same bottle and went to the same room in the back. Thomas always made it a habit to leave a tip for me on the window, no matter how many times I'd leave it there for him. He seemed to never get the hint; I don't want his tips. I'd prefer working for my tips  and not getting them simply because I'm someone's friend. "What are you having tonight?" I asked a man who had just walked through the door. "I'm lookin' for a Tommy Shelby." I gave a confused look before heading over to the window, knocking on it. Arthur immediately opened it for me. "Someone's here for Thomas." His eyes darkened a second as he peaked around the corner, seeing the man for himself. Thomas' face hardened in a way I've never seen. It was almost intimidating, in a way. He stood to his feet, opening the door to motion the man inside. "Go out back to Harry's office. Tell 'im you're on break but do not come out until Tommy comes to getcha." I gave him a confused look but nodded anyway, knowing full well there's a reason for their stiffness. He closed the window, giving the room its proper amount of privacy. I immediately did as I was told, and from my small story, Harry agreed to give me time in his secluded office. I waited at his desk patiently, fiddling my thumbs nervously. What could possibly be happening in that little room that requires me to hide in the back? Not only is this inconvenient, but as far as I'm aware, completely unnecessary. I wouldn't be able to eavesdrop even if I wanted too; the pub was too darn loud to hear a person directly in front of you, let alone in a segregated room.

        Finally, after what felt like forever, Thomas walked in the room. His posture was stiff, his expression stone cold. I couldn't help but shift nervously in my seat, awaiting whatever he had to say. "You can go back now." I gave him a confused look. "That's all? Not even an explanation?" He shook his head, opening the door wider to motion me out. "No."

        "Thomas, I'm not trying to pry and forgive me if I sound otherwise, but I'm having a hard time understanding why I was put in hiding while you had whatever kind of meeting that was." He sighed loudly, using his left hand to motion outside the room. "It's not any of your business." I raised an eyebrow at him before scoffing slightly, shaking my head in irritation. "Then, I ask respectively to leave me out of it next time and let me work." I stood up and walked passed him, refusing to make eye contact. Two can play at the rude game, I suppose. I carried out my work for the rest of the night, refusing to socialize with Thomas Shelby the entire time. He tried to make eye contact many a time, but to no avail. I have a job to do that does not include dealing with Thomas' confusing mood swings and careless attitude. If I'm not included in whatever transpired tonight, than don't send me off in the middle of a rush. Not only does that not make sense, but also singles me out, which draws more attention to me than just leaving me to my work instead.

       By the time two in the morning hit, the pub had finally died down enough for me to clean up. I was in the middle of flipping chairs when Thomas approached me. "Do you need anything, Thomas?" I asked nonchalantly, focusing more on my task than on the man behind me. "You're angry at me." He stated blatantly. "Is that truly what you want to talk about?" He nodded his head, fiddling with the cigarette that was pinched between his fingers. "Yes, to be honest with you."