"He can fuck whoever he wants?" I stare at her like she's got one eye and three sets of noses, lips that are the colour of green and skin the colour of the sky. "Are you fuckin' hearing yourself?" I ask, leaning in as I learn more and more about this woman.
She came out of nowhere to be honest. Hurling into my dads pub, I reckon I remember her from somewhere, and when I finally ask her who she is do I remember exactly who she is. My sister and her were friends, Lizzie fucking Starke. Slave to the Shelby's, of course. That's what we call her now, seeing as it is true.
Anyway, we got on to talking, because I'm a fuckin' barmaid, and alls I do is listen to people babble on about themselves, and the pathetic lives they live. I've learned to make this a bit of a pastime, seeing as I've got no choice. I've learned to apply all of my skills to helping out the drunk and worthless, giving them advice and therapy. I believe I've become really quite good at it.
The bloody pubs been closed for a wee bit over two hours and I've gotten to really chatting with her. She's quite the fuck up to say the least, a baby on the way, a man who does not love her. I almost threw up when she told me the sex wasn't even that good.
She throws her hands around, "I mean, he fucks whoever he wants!" She sighs, looking into the glass, depressed and desperate. "That doesn't mean he can!"
"But you allow it?" My jaw nearly hits the floor. "Look, Izzy-"
"Lizzie!"
I put my hands up, "Lizzie, fuck, I'm sorry." I'm not good with names, especially when I've been drinking. I toss back the wee bit of whiskey and look at her. "Lizzie." I swallow it and slam it against the bar. "You need to grow a bit of balls."
She absorbs this like I'm some sort of fucking therapist. And I work it for her. Making it bang and boom, making myself seem like the best woman on the planet. A woman with her fucking head on her sturdy shoulders. By the end of the night, she's sobbing uncontrollably into my arms. Promising, swearing on her fathers gave and to all that she loves that she will not go back to such a fiend. And I felt amazing, womanly even. Because Lizzie has a good fucking head on her shoulders, and she knows better than to stoop as low to be with a man who only uses her.
I get home, bathe in my own filth before heading to bed. A routine that's become the norm for me, I climb into my bed, my gown is up to my hips and as I lay naked exploring my body do I hear noises from the outside of the top of the pub.
"Jess!" My fathers bellowing voice sounds, jolting me out of my bed.
I run out of bed, yanking down my dress as I race across the room to the door. I yank it open and race down the stairs, nearly falling to the floor when I see my father - an aged man with grey hair and eyes the colour of a cloudy day. He has one hand on his pistol, it trembles in his grip, as the other one rests on the wall.
"Jesus! Dad put down the fuckin' gun!" I race towards him and take it from his grasp before moving myself to hold up his body as much as I can. Being permanently blind does not help him as he tries to steady himself.
"Jessica, fuck, I heard some men outside!" He yells, "Talking about getting the torches ready!"
"What?" I look down at him, blinking before hearing a chorus of yells surrounding the outside of the pub. "Fuck." I whisper.
He looks right at the floor, eyes wide as if to focus. "Take me outside!"
"No." I state, looking at the gun in my hand. I've been taught many times to shoot, had to shoot the fucker who tried to rob us a few months ago. "Okay, dad, I'm going to go, just stay put!"
"Jessica!" He yells, but I'm already withering away from his touch. I mean it's fucking time to grow up, and if I die now, so be it. Fuck. My shoulders wont stop tensing up as I walk towards the door, and like an innocent girl, I want to scream for my father, but I don't.
I yank open the door to the pub, lifting the gun up to have the best aim. My hand pulls back the safety and I pray to God dad's had it loaded all along. I have a set of eyes staring back at me, and as I squint my eyes do I notice them only as John Shelby. The same fuck that was kicked out of school when I was.
"Jessica?!"
"John?!" I yell almost the moment I notice the literal gasoline he pours on the steps of the pub. I don't think, I just see him doing something so rude and vile to my pub, so I fire off my weapon. It cocks back, I almost sock myself in my eye but I quickly gather myself and I see the little hole at the top of his blazer. Fuck, I missed.
A force is quick to throw me across the fucking wall, he is aggressive and angry, and as I fall against the wall does he wrap his arms around my waist. I take it as a threat and move my elbow right between his pecks and give him a good swift hit right in the middle of his chest. He yells and I take the very bottom of my pistol and hit him in the temple with it. Again, a yell that comes out as a throaty growl, he falls back and looks at me as blood pours from the tops of his face.
"What the fuck?!" He shouts, his eyes narrowing at me.
"What the fuck!" I shout back, noticing that he is Tommy Shelby. The fucking Don. "Oh fuck." I whisper, wrapping an arm around myself. Fuck.