Another bout of careless rainfall pelted down during the small hours of the morning, just as the car pulled up outside the Eden club. It's usual brightly flashing bulb façade was dull and devoid of any visual flare – and upon entering the foyer the fountains that usually trickled and voices that chattered were non existent.
It felt odd – incredibly alien, to put it best – to see the club in such a way. Verity had only ever seen it with some form of life to it, whether that be Arthur grumbling for her to help him with the books or hearing Scarlett singing rather amusing little made up tunes whilst she strode about the club in her ridiculously high boots.
This time. There was nothing.
As she entered the rather draughty feeling main room, the former raindrops chilled against her skin even more. Throwing her clutch bag onto the ghostly emptiness of the bar top, Verity hailed herself onto one of the red velvet seated stools and slumped her head into her hands.
"What a night." She grumbled. Maybe it was the few extra strong gulps of gin she'd had at Eli's club or maybe it was her ongoing concerns for Scarlett – perhaps a mixture; either way, Verity's head was beginning to pound like a drum.
Head in her dainty hands, she didn't even notice as Tommy stepped behind the bar to pour himself a drink. His long black coat was dusted in relentless raindrops that held their form, akin to twinkling small cuts of diamonds. Removing his peaky cap, the sound of the fabric lightly thudding on the bar top just to the left of her caused Verity to jerk her head out of her hands.
"Get used to seeing Arthur like that, love." Tommy's voice scorned, his back to her as he poured himself a strong Irish whisky. "He's been on a path of self destruction ever since France." Hazel eyes trained on the back of his well tailored waistcoat and shirt, Verity wasn't quite prepared for the rather lost look on Tommy's expression as he turned to face her.
"We all have."
Verity understood why Tommy would feel like this, from the snippets of information he'd given her on their first meeting. She didn't think it wise to ask him about it all over again, and then make herself look like she hadn't been listening the first time.
Sighing, Verity limply let her arms fall to the bar as she turned slowly on the stool to look out at the empty room.
"I meant the whole night in general was just ... a mess." She said. Collating everything – a night of tension, drug induced chaos and a miserable best friend – it had been in Verity's eyes, a bit of a failure of an evening. Especially when it had been painted out as something that was supposed to be really influential and life changing for Arthur.
Bringing his amber glass of whisky to his lips, Tommy cocked his head with a crass curiousness. Verity knew that look, and narrowed her eyes.
"Think so?" Was all he said, smacking his lips together after savouring they taste of the alcoholic beverage. His blue eyes fell down to the floor behind the bar as he appeared to be busying about with glasses beneath the shelf of the bar top.
"What was your little chat with Eli about?" Tommy asked, clearing his throat. The mental image of the Northerner's hand on her hip was burned hot into his brain – like a branded cow.
"The pair of you looked rather cozy."
Before Verity could bite back at him for trying to stir the pot, Tommy thunked a glass down on the oak bar in front of her. A quick sniff of the drink identified it as a gin and tonic – and judging by the taste it was 99% gin and 1% tonic.
Considering Tommy wanted to act like a petty child, Verity rather felt she would need this drink. She'd gone from a pretty miss ready for the party to a dishevelled damsel of some kind – styled hair falling out of place, untamed locks of brunette falling into her face. She was looking about as fed up of the night as she felt.
"Did you see my hands on him?" She bit back, swallowing a mouthful of the petrol-strength drink. Her hazel eyes stared back at Tommy's own blue ones with a burning defiance. "No."
"What was he saying then to have you listening to intently?" Tommy then offered, hiding his secret smile at the fact he'd managed to wind her up a little.
This was where Verity wondered whether she should go down this road or just write this off for the night and go to sleep in the dressing room.
The whispering reminder in her head told her she couldn't expect to get anywhere with Tommy opening up if she didn't do so with him. She had to share what she knew.
Wetting her lower lip with her tongue, Verity's eyes shot down for a moment as she tapped her nails on the bar.
"He was just asking about me ... potentially going to his club." She started, her eyes daring to flicker up to see Tommy's reaction. "He just talked about it like it was to be payment for him helping Arthur out." She then said, looking Up now and almost finding pure frustration at how little Tommy let his expressions range.
"I assure you I wouldn't go there out of choice." Verity added, which was the honest truth. Mainly because she was settled here now. She was treated with a level of respect and had met the most wonderful best friend ever. Not to mention Tommy himself had not been too awkward as of late – as aforementioned, he would often call in to make sure things were adequate when Arthur was busy pouring all his focus on Scarlett.
The white noise in the club could be heard for a few seconds, before Tommy cracked a smile chuff of amusement, something that surprised Verity.
"Something the matter?" She asked, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. Her question was met with Tommy shaking his hand nonchalantly, but still hiding the faintest traces of that smile.
"No," he started, biting his lip as if to diminish all existence of his former grin, "I just found it rather..." he paused, running his sky blue gaze over Verity who was looking at him with nothing but intent, her delicate right hand wrapped around her gin glass – beautiful hazel eyes peering over the rim as pretty as the sunrise over a new horizon. He thought carefully about where his words would lead him ... how they might betray him.
"Rather sweet that you'd talk about your position here in such a way." He finalised, saving himself with a long sip of the whisky that both refreshed and soothed him.
Scoffing light heartedly, Verity knew it herself to play dumb. She knew what she meant. It wasn't exactly a secret about the level of animosity she had in the early stages for stubborn, selfish and egotistical Thomas Shelby. When he offered her a place at the club she denounced in quickly and never pictured herself ever working with the man after feeling he was pig-headed. But when things in her life took a turn – it seemed he was actually an angel in disguise.
"I know we got off to a rocky start but," Verity started, her twinkling eyes fixing on Tommy's, "I do actually very much like it here now. I feel I've settled in and ... I adore Scarlett so much." She confesses with a beaming smile. Tommy nodded in pleased acknowledgement, but it seemed Scarlett was not done.
"And... despite the things I had said to you in the early days..." she cleared her throat, "I really appreciate all you have done for me. Giving me the chance to take up a career here, making sure I was comfortable. Thank you." She said gratefully.
Tommy would be lying to himself if her gratitude didn't fill him with a large bout of smugness, yet all the same it softened him immensely and he wasn't sure how to receive the feeling. He'd always had an admiration, infatuation even (at points) with Verity – and after being convinced she loathed his very bones, he was both moved and incredibly surprised to hear her direct such warm thanks his way.
Yet behind it all was the truth of what had really happened.
What he'd done to her to get her to be under his thumb.
Tommy quickly brushed back the sudden nipping of guilt at his heels.
"Ah, well, it's not like this didn't have benefits for me as well." He distanced himself from the feeling, in typical Thomas fashion he couldn't say "you're welcome". He had to keep up that distant and egotistical reputation.
Verity raised her brows in agreement and took another healthy sip of the overpowering gin, sitting up tall in her seat as Tommy observed the smallest of her gestures. She was still so stunning to him and he was very aware of the fact she was still so far out of his reach.
"You've not been to the club in a couple of weeks prior to the other day," Verity started, "what are you doing otherwise?" She said with an interested tone.
Tommy sighed thinking about it – work. And all the recent strains it had been putting on him. The biggest, most tiresome strain of all came in the form of his cousin, Michael Gray.
"Just the general overseeing of the Shelby Company." Tommy decided to keep it brief, "monitoring the gin export overseas... trying to reason with a boy who thinks he knows everything now he's got a fucking wife."
Verity very quickly sensed the bitterness in Tommy's tones, she hadn't ever heard him speak much about his family or any other aspects of the business so ... this was a step in the right direction.
"Who's this?" She asked softly, audibly but softly swallowing some gin, her twinkling silver dress shimmering under the fee dimly lit lights in the expansive room.
Lifting his concentrated gaze, Tommy realised his whole body was tensed at the thought of the threat of his cousin – the feeling of losing himself completely was mounting up again.
"My cousin." Tommy answered shortly, "he's got big fucking ideas above his station and a dangerous wife."
Verity found some sort of masked amusement at his choice of wording, but this chat unveiled a new vulnerability to her about Tommy. He clearly was feeling threatened.
"I take it he wants to make moves in the business you're not happy with?"
"On the money." Tommy answered, his statement confirmation she was right. He ran his tongue along his lip, his brain fighting itself as to whether he should keep talking to Verity or shut the hell up. However, it seemed the whisky had an unspoken say in the sway of his decision.
"I'm not unreasonable, we always hold family meetings on big decisions but... Michael wants to take control of the Shelby company altogether." His voice was rather aloof at his sentence spurred on, like he was becoming more and more aware of what he was going on about.
"Except everyone seemed to agree with the bloody decision ... Aunt Pol..."
Verity's head tilted to one side as she attentively listened in to Tommy's overspill of information. She was just glad he was actually talking to her – but she didn't want to keep pressuring him into talking – especially when he looked so lost and troubled.
Her heart tightened in her chest as his chilling blue eyes stared into her own – he had an unhinged look about him in that second. One that affirmed with her that clearly, he needed to talk – and he needed her help.
"They all seemed to agree that I..."
Tommy stopped dead, it was as if his brain had blockaded his mouth from betraying his boarded up reputation any further. Instead, his eyes moved from Verity's and back to the glass of whisky in his hand.
Verity allowed for a few seconds before she asked, wanting to see if time would allow him to say what he was going to say.
"Agree that what?" She questioned in a soothing voice, a caring intent in her eyes.
'That I've gone mad'
He could not say it.
As Tommy saw that gentle gaze, the plug was pulled in his mind, and out came all the negative thoughts. He felt embarrassed for sharing like he did, felt ashamed of who he was all over again – but most importantly, the earlier sensed guilt washed over him full force like a turbulent wave. There she was, the first person who ever really wanted to try and listen and he had betrayed her so immensely.
He had taken away everything that allowed her to be the compassionate person she was, caring for those around her.
He was sick to his own stomach at what he had done – yet he knew he couldn't say a thing.
He'd lose her as his earner, his singer – but most importantly – lose her.
Lifting the whisky glass to his lips one last time, Tommy downed the fiery amber liquid in a few deep gulps before slamming the glass back down and leaving the bar area without so much as a word.
The doors to the other room swung turbulently as he disappeared behind them, and Verity acknowledged he was probably going on a troubled emotional journey in his head, worrying about his company and rivalry in his family.
However, she was completely oblivious to the fact that actually, those thoughts troubling him in his mind were all really surrounding her.
Not long after Tommy had left the bar, Verity retired to her dressing room and made a makeshift bed out of the plush seat and both her's and Scarlett's vanity chairs, using her robe that hung on the back of the door as a blanket for the night.
Her concerned mind eventually drifted into a light sleep – whilst at the other end of the club, Tommy drowned himself in his whisky and chain smoked copious cigarettes as some form of escape to cope with the final realisation of what he had done.
As the potent mix of alcohol and tobacco swirled into a combined messy-clarity – Tommy reaffirmed with himself once again that despite his immense guilt, he could not come clean to Verity about what he had done.
He would go on as he had been – and as they had done many times before, he was confident the whisky and cigarettes would push the guilt right back into it's shadowy corners.
He hoped.
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A/N: this was just a shameless Tommy/Verity convo chapter because I feel like I need to build a bit more on their interactions etc to prepare for the story going forwards!
Thank you to everyone for supporting this story and I'll see you in the next chapter x