Dim The Circus Lights (Book 2 of Beneath The Circus Lights)

Chapter 43

"I wasn't going to bring it up, but what the fuck, happened to your face mate?" Jamie's eyes flickered over Jerome's scars distastefully.

  "What? You don't think I'm handsome anymore?" Jerome pouted, taking a seat behind his desk while Jamie sat in the chair before him.

  "As handsome as a one eyed mangy dog." Jamie deadpanned and Jerome glared at him for a brief moment before breaking into a laughing fit.

  "Ah, I missed your dry English humor." Jerome mockingly wiped a imaginary tear from his eye.

   "And I didn't miss your stupid American piss poor beer. But really Jerome, you must have some kind of proposition or you wouldn't have invited me down here." Jamie reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigeratte before lighting it.

   "Let me start by thanking you for coming all the way out here. I know you don't like leaving home much." Jerome handed his cousin a crystal tumbler, the dark amber liquid of the whiskey slouching inside.

"Aye, but when family calls," Jamie took a drink from the drink contents "kin is kin and we defend our own."

   The familiar tongue of Shelta, the language of Irish Travelers, rolled from Jamie's lips. The language was one Jerome has learned from his mother, uncles and extended family during his childhood with Haley's.

Ironically the first words he ever learned in Shelta were curse words.

"Yeah. So here's my proposal, you send your booze here, I sell it, give you 30% of the profits, while also giving you twelve cases of my insanity gas." Jerome watched as Jamie rubbed his thumb over the glass, icy blue eyes relaxed yet thoughts hidden behind a perfect poker face.

  "I can sell my liquor to your competitors. Gotham is fucked over, nobody getting in, nobody getting out. Why should I risk losing my product if it never gets delivered? And who's to say you'll make any profit eh?" Jamie raised a dark brow, Jerome as family, but he wasn't about to go belly up for him.

  Shaking his head, Jerome let it a low chuckle. "Jamie, it's me we're talking about. Jeremiah may have been book smart, but I'm street smart okay." Jerome stood, walking around the desk until he sat on the edge before his cousin, accepting the smoke that was offered to him.

  Elsie would kill him for smoking, but at he moment he couldn't give a lesser shit.

  "My connections spread far past Gotham, the only good thing about our family is the extended part. I've got associates in New York, Chicago and New Hampshire, all working with me, ready to to distribute your liquor."

  "Fucking hell, you did think this through." Jamie smirked, stubbing our his smoke.

  "Thank you, I do try." Jerome took a long drag.

  "It's a good deal, but I want 45% of the profits."  Jerome for his part managed to maintain his poker face.

"33%."

  "42%."

"30%" take it or I'll blow your Goddamn knee cap off and you'll be limping back to Birmingham you fucking limy." Jerome and Jamie glared at each other until the Englishman nodded, a small smile cracking at his lips.

"Deal, you fucking prick." Jerome grinned, shaking Jamie's hand before reaching over the desk and poured them another glass of whiskey.

  "Let's celebrate." He refilledJamie's glass and than his own.

  "To what, the new business agreement?" Jamie nodded his thanks for the drink.

"Nah, that's boring. How about to life," Jerome raised his glass "May you be in heaven a full half hour," the Shelta fell from his lips with ease.

   "Befor the devil realizes your dead, sláinte." The two men clinked glasses before downing their drinks.

"Now that business is out of the way, how's Jeremiah doing?" Jamie set his tumbler down.

Jerome tensed, a scowl firming in his face. "That little shit is a fucking pain in my ass as usual."

  "I know it's not me place, but me mother made me promise that I would speak to you about you two."

  "Jesus Christ..." Jerome moves form his position on the desk to move towards the curtained windows.

  "I know, I know. But I promised her. Look, I know you and your brother have a shit tone of problems between you two. But you're brothers. There is no one who's going to watch your back like family will."

  "Family? You want to talk to me about fucking family?" Jerome growled, turning to face the other man "my mother beat me within an inch of my life on several occasions, my uncle boiled my hand, my father lived three trailers away from me and never did a fucking thing to help me and my twin brother fucking deserted me. They were all fucking shit excuses for human beings. So excuse me if family doesn't mean shit to me."

  "You know we didn't know anything that happened. Ma and the family would have taken you two away immediately to England  if she'd had known. Lila was no mother to you or Jeremiah. Not a respectable and true member of the Gammell clan. Now I know I can't make you change your mind about Jeremiah, and I told me ma that, but I want you to know, the Gammells will always consider you blood and we're looking out for you, your wife and your little ones." Jamie touches Jerome's shoulder.

  The other man nodded stiffly, before cracking a fake grin, eager to change the subject "why don't I show you around the place, you are staying for a week right?" Jerome swung his arm around Jamie's shoulders, leading him out of the study.