Alfie Solomons is a bachelor. He's a lot of other things too. Some would call him an entrepreneur, others might call him a baker, or a gangster if they dared.
That's because he deals with white bread, and brown bread, and lots and lots of rum. Not...
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Alfie stood leaning against his stick in the damp warehouse with the famous Thomas Shelby, his own man Bennet and some other faceless peaky fuck.
He wasn't in the mood to be here today, he would much rather be in the presence of Cora Limbert, who would currently be busying herself in his office, probably shimmying around seductively to her hypnotic country melodies. However, business was his bread and butter and he had shit to attend to. So she must wait until later.
Alfie reached into his pocket as he sat at the wooden table that had been randomly plonked on an unused warehouse floor specifically for the meet up. He skimmed the cold metal of his pistol in the inside pocket of his coat with his bare hand and pulled out a tissue, using it to wipe his nose.
"Shalom Alfie" Tommy said as he sat down opposite to him, a long sigh escaping his lips, the ever existing look of melancholy on his pretty fucking face. Miserable cunt.
Alfie glared at him. Was Thomas Shelby taking the piss? Alfie hated any reference to his religion, especially condescendingly in business talks. It was irrelevant, it was like it was used against him, viewed as some sort of handicap. He didn't end business talks with an amen or hail fucking Mary so he didn't see why these lot had to bring up the fact he was a Jew. In all honesty this Jew wasn't doing so bad for himself so the gypsy twat across from him could pipe down before he made him.
"Top of thee marnin' to ya" Alfie replied in an Irish twang that he was instantly proud of and one which set the tone of the meeting. The racism pissed Tommy off noticeably and reminded everyone present that beneath it all the two camps weren't allies, and the undertone between them would always be dangerous. Neither one could really trust the other, and Alfie never trusted anyone. Except Bennet. Recently though, Alfie and pretty boy Shelby had the shared interest of taking old Darby Sabini down into the mud. The man was making a complete shambles and mockery of the ways of their trade. He was killing important faces for unimportant reasons and cutting everybody short for his own gains. Each camp around here had their own trades, yet Sabini seemed to want a bite of all of their pies. The greedy Italian should've stuck to his spaghetti because if Alfie had anything to do with it soon enough that's all he'd be able to eat on account of his teeth being knocked clean from his potty mouth. So Alfie had strategically used the Blinders to loot John Limberts docks in order to give him a reason to have his own personal bad blood with Sabini and terminate his only trade route. This would undermine Sabini's ability to be the top dog he was becoming under their noses and would mean Alfie's business would resume as the mother of London firms and Shelby's as the mother of Birmingham's- whilst leaving Alfie as the silent instigator of Sabini's downfall.
However, now Alfie owed the Blinders a favour, for putting themselves in the firing line. He didn't sit well with being in debt to anyone be it through money or deed and so he wanted it sorted quickly. They were meeting to discuss their protection from the backlash of Limbert and future moves for the docks. It could end up being a good deal. Or it could end up being gang warfare if they didn't like the proposed deal and landed him in it with Limbert or Sabini. As ever, business was uncertain.
