A Collection of Imagines

Tom

More like an Alfie Imagine 

Just Like a Shelby 

"Are you going to say something or are you just going to sit there?" I ask, quite curiously. It's been almost a minute since he waltz into the bar, saw me sitting here alone and decided to sit down next to me. I glanced at him from time to time and each occasion, he was staring at me. I grew tired of the silence after a second glass of whiskey. 

"You mind my staring?" 

I put the glass down onto the counter. I turn my body to face him. "Very much." He chuckles at my serious tone. I furrow my eyebrows at his nonchalant reaction. He leans back in his chair and his hands cross over his apparel: a long sleeved white shirt with a black vest over it, paired with a black dress pants and shoes, as well as a chain hanging out of his pocket which can very well be a pocket watch. He tips his head towards me. His brimmed hat follows suit. 

"You're a Shelby, right?" 

My eyes snap back to his. A deep brown. The kind of color that can sense any sort of lie. I shouldn't even try lying. He already knows the truth. My elbows go over the bar and I look down to find the bartender. I raise my glass in the air, signalling another round. I hear the man beside me lean closer. 

"You are, ain't ya? I can tell. The way you people present yourselves. Here in Tommy's bar, alone. Not giving a fuck if anyone thinks you're a whore. The way you shoot back one whiskey after the other without getting the least bit loaded."

I look in front of me as he lists out all the things about the person he believes me to be. 

"You even smell like candle wax. You have been praying in the church with your Aunt Polly, haven't ya?" 

My eyes catch his. How the hell does this man know who my Aunt Polly is? Well, everyone knows who Aunt Polly is, but how did he know about the church?

"I even believe that you have a gun in your purse, right?"

I give a blank face. One that's a little too obvious. He chuckles again and I try to assess him. My eyes go to his beard. Not too long, but definitely not stubble. Shaped specifically. My guess is he's of Jewish faith. The gold chain with the star of David as a pendant verify that assumption. 

"What I don't understand is the light hair and eyes. Everything else screams Shelby, but that's the thing. I think you're a Shelby by association."

I move downwards towards his hands. Scarred on the knuckles and calloused on the palms. A fighter. A killer. Just like me. 

"So if you're not really a Shelby, then what are you?"

He leans forward further, interested in the answer. I lean closer to him. A sly smile appearing on my face. One starts appearing on his as well.  "I could ask you the same question."

"I asked you first, love." 

I hear the bartender putting my drink on the counter. I reach over without taking my eyes off of this mystery man. I put the glass up to my lips and I speak before I take a sip. "I'm Grace Burgess's sister." He leans back with his eyes wide and mouth agape. He's actually surprised by my answer. I laugh into my drink. I take a sip as he lets out an exhale. 

"You must be -"

"19? Yes." I place my drink on the counter. I turn back to face him and he's already leaning back closer to me. 

"You ran from your family?"

"No. I was just reunited with them. Tommy, Grace and the Shelby's are my family." He chuckles again. 

"How rebellious. Just like a Shelby." 

I smile at his perfect answer. I lift my drink off of the table and I take another sip. I place it back down. His eyes pour into mine again. "And you are ...?"

"Right ..."

He takes his hat off of his head and places it on the counter as he shifts his body in his chair again. He leans back while he crosses his legs. His hands landing perfectly on his knee. The silver rings across his fingers already give me an idea. He's here on business with Tommy. 

"I'm Alfred Solomons, but my friends call me Alfie." 

I recognize the name. He's one of the Jewish clan leaders that's at war with the Sabbini's. They're just above us on the hierarchy of horse race gambling companies. Maybe that's why Tommy gives a shit about him. "So, what do you want from Tommy?"

"Why do you assume I'm here to see Tommy and not you?"

"Because ..." I didn't recollect the second half of his question. Did he know me before? Have I met him before? I didn't recognize him when he came to the bar, so no. I'm just as much of a stranger to him as he is to me. I ignore that half of the question and continue. "Because I know that you own the largest illegal whiskey factory in Camden Town. I have a feeling Tommy is using you for some scheme that he's plotting. I believe you're in on it as well." 

"I can't just be here to see a beautiful girl?"

"A man of your position of power, no I don't think so." Total disregard for the compliment. 

"Stubborn. Just like Tommy."

The bar doors fly open and we both look who has barged in so loudly. I mentally slap myself when I find The Mr. Shelby standing in the doorway. He fixes his jacket and locks eyes with me. The look of disappointment. Fuck. My eyes dart back to the counter. I knew that I shouldn't be here with this man once I heard his name. God, he's going to fucking kill me. 

"Tommy!" 

Alfie perks up beside me. I raise my glass and down whatever is still in it. I slam it back on the counter as I hear Tommy's foot steps clap against the tile towards the bar. 

"Hello, Alfie." 

The same monotoned voice I hate hearing sounds throughout my ears. I listen to the bar gate open and close. He's behind the counter. 

"I just met your sister-in-law. God, she really takes after Grace, don't she?" 

He looks at Alfie with not an ounce of a smile. His dead eyes go to me. He opens his mouth to speak. 

"Leave." 

"Gladly." I get up from my chair as I began my descent. A hand is placed on my arm, stopping me from leaving. My head jerks in Alfie's direction. 

"I will see you again, right, Miss Burgess?" 

The same sly smile appears back on his face. I can't help, but get drawn in by it. My eyes go to Tommy behind the counter. His hands now pressed against it. I look back to Alfie. As much as I want to say yes, I know I will receive an even bigger talking to later. "That's Miss Shelby to you, Mr. Solomons." I yank my arm from his grasp and walk away from him. I can hear him laughing as I step lively towards the front doors. 

"She's quite something, ain't she?" 

The words ringing in my ears as I open the doors to the Garrison. 

AN: Again, if you haven't seen Peaky Blinders, what are you doing with your life?