Cost of The Chase | T. Shelby ✓

01 | Real Family

Her knees still felt weak from the ship ride, but she felt a surge optimism as the car took her closer and closer to Small Heath. Her old home, the place she met her best friend. The car slowed to a stop, on the corner of Garrison Lane and Witton Street. The roads appeared to be very muddy from the rain. She cringed a bit at the thought of dirtying her boots. The driver came around the car to retrieve her single bag of luggage.

Sylvette stepped out of the car with ease due to her taller height. Many times, people would ask her if she came from a family of giants. All of her family members in France were shorter than her and it caused a multitude of questions that Sylvia hated answering. "Oi, I coulda helped you." She just gives the driver a smile.

"Oh, I know. Thank you," He handed her the luggage with what looked to be apprehension. "I  need not a man to help me." This caused his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise, Sylvia couldn't help but smirk at him. She held her bag on her forearm as she made her way toward The Garrison. Perhaps she would find a familiar face inside.

The sound of talking managed to break through the closed doors as Sylvia used her left hand to open the door. Inside the pub is a rather large number of men. Upon her entrance, they all seemed to pause and stare at her in confusion. Sylvia knew exactly why. She was dressed far better than anyone inside. 

She looked wrong against the background in her clearly expensive clothing. Sylvia didn't even bother looking at any of the men for more than a mere glance since she was on a mission. A mission to find one of the Shelby boys, or even the Ada she read about in Tom's letters. Sylvia made her way over to the bar, she checked the counter for any liquids and when she deemed it clean enough, she sat her bag upon it. 

A man walked over, tall, wide, with blond hair that looked stained with sweat. "The hell are ya doin' in here?" Her eyes widened at his tone.

"I'm looking for one of the Shelby's." Sylvia saw something flash in his eyes, she couldn't tell if it was fear or admiration. Sylvia chose fear. 

He shook his head, "None of them are up in ere'."

"So you're saying they do come here after all?" He nodded his head slowly. Something about how his shoulders tensed up at the mere mention of the last name made Sylvia wonder just how much Small Heath has changed. It had been nearly twenty years since Sylvia had been home and it felt different, but it felt nice. "Well, have you seen any of them lately?"

The man nodded again, "Thomas left just a little while ago, haven't seen em' since." Sylvia felt an involuntary smile stretch on her red lips, oh how she's missed him. 

She sat her hand on her bag and began removing her gloves. Sylvia pushes them inside before clasping the cover again. "My name is Sylvette Taylor," Recognition seemed to spark in his eyes as he shakes her hand. It's dainty in comparison but Sylvia knew she had a sturdy handshake. 

"Oh, you're the girl that got adopted aye? Well, I'm Harry," Sylvia agreed with a nod, "Can I get ya anything to drink? We've got whiskey?" She nodded once more and reached for her purse, but the man put a hand out to stop her, "It's on the house." She felt the crease in her forehead as she slowly moved her hands away from the purse. How odd...

The door burst open and Sylvia reached for the knife she kept in her purse for protection. Women were always in danger and Sylvia refuses to become a dead body in the paper. The unfamiliar face confused Sylvia, but the young man seemed to recognize her immediately. "Sylvette?! Is that truly you?" The young man pronounces both t's which made Sylvia grit her teeth. He ran to her and hugged her.

She couldn't find the name to his face, "It's me, John." Her gasp was rather low but audible. The young John had grown up to be a handsome young man. How he recognized her was unknown to her, but it was great to finally put a face to the name. She never met him, but remembered Tom writing to her about his new little brother and how much he resembled an egg. 

"Oh! It's wonderful to finally meet you, my you've grown so much–" Sylvia remembered how he pronounced her name and her true intent of coming into this pub, "–the t's are silent, you idiot. Now, where is Tom?" John's eye grew darker, this caused worry to blossom in her chest. Was he dead? He couldn't be though, Harry said he'd seen him not long ago.

John took a step back, "I'm not sure. But if you like I can walk you to the house? And carry that rather... fancy bag ya got there." When he reached for the bag, Sylvia smacked his hand away.

"I've got it. And thank you," He seemed conflicted when she quickly downed the glass of whiskey that Harry served to her just a minute prior. Sylvia hadn't expected to find the Shelby's so quickly but felt proud of the swift progress.

John led Sylvia out of the pub and toward Watery Lane. "What have you been up to?" Sylvia thought about her answer, her gloves are on her hands again. She's warm inside her coat, cozy even.

"In the years since I left?" She decided to reply with a question and John nodded, "It's been lonely if I am being honest. I never found a real family as I did with yours. I had a family if you're being technical. But as I grew up, I found that they just wanted me there to marry their son." Sylvia nearly puked at the thought, "Fucking disgusting innit?" Sylvia's accent became muddled, her irritation causing it. 

"Well, that's no good, come on. We've made it." The walk seemed short to Sylvia or she was so blinded by her anger that she wasn't paying much attention.

The house looked the same, or at least it seemed as though it did. She stood in the street, staring at the place she used to stay. "Quit standin' in the street like a fool, come on Sylvette." John pulled her along and she broke out of her trance to go inside.