Alex's Nerdy Corner

Tommy

A few days after Billy Kimber came to the bar, I had a meeting with two Irishmen inquiring about guns. The guns that I stole. The guns that I was supposed to have gotten rid of. The Garrison was empty save for me in the private room and Alice behind the bar. I had the window open to the main room of the bar.

"I have decided I can't go to the races," Alice said as she brought over a bottle of Irish Whiskey and three glasses.

"Why not?" I tried not to sound too disappointed.

"Well, not until you give me another three pounds for the dress."

I could feel myself smile despite myself, "I've already given you three."

"Yes, but how much do you pay for your suit?" She asked boldly.

"I don't pay for suits. My suits are on the house, or the house burns down."

She looked scared for a moment but quickly smiled to cover it up, "So you want me to go looking like a little girl?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. You're not dressing up for me." I smirked and closed the window to the pass-through. The two Irishmen I was meeting came in seconds later.

The Irishmen, who claimed to be part of the IRA, did most of the talking. They asked about the guns that I stole and told me that if I happened to have them, that they would pay good money for them. One started to sing the song of the IRA when I voiced doubts about them being real IRA members. After escorting them out of the Garrison, I approached Alice and placed the bottle of half-empty whiskey on the bar-top.

"What was all that singing about?" She giggled slightly.

"Whiskey tends to be good proofing water. It tells you who is real and who isn't," I took a drag off my cigarette.

"Who were those Irishmen?" She took the bottle and wiped down the counter with the rag she kept on her shoulder.

"Oh, they're nobodies," I told her, "They drink at the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. They are only rebels because they like the songs and stories."

She pondered a moment before asking, "So, do you have sympathies with them?"

"I 'ave no sympathies of any description."

"Their accents are so thick that it's a wonder you could understand them. You know, my grandmother on my dad's side was Irish. Next time, I could help decipher."

"You'd work for me?"

"I was under the impression I already was working for you," She smiled and stepped back.

"So you are coming with me to the races?" I asked, and all she did was smirk. "Three pounds." I reached into my jacket pocket, took out the three pounds, and put it onto the bar-top.

"Wear something red to match his handkerchief," I said as I turned to go.

"Whose handkerchief?" She called after me.

All I did was turn back briefly and smile wide. As I left, I shook my head. She was something else. Standing up to me and talking to me the way she did. It was like she had no fear in the world.

Alice

Harry let me leave early so I could buy a dress for the races. He told me the quickest way to the shop was to go past the pub named the Black Swan, which was a few blocks away.

As I came up on the pub, I forgot which way I was going. I could ask someone. I saw a man exit the pub. A familiar-looking man. How did I know this man? I wondered to myself. As I got closer, it was clear the man was the Irishman who visited the Garrison earlier today. He was approaching an alleyway. I followed him despite my better judgment. The second I entered the alley, I was tossed up against the wall with a hand on my sternum and a tight grip on my upper arm. While I was not the thinnest person, I wasn't the strongest either, so I struggled against his grasp.

"Followin' me, are ya?" his thick Irish accent was laced with the smell of alcohol, "What are ya? A spy? A copper?"

With my free hand, I clawed at his hand on my upper chest that was holding me in place. That did nothing. I reached out between us and pushed at his shoulder. He barely moved an inch. Then I drew my arm back as far as I could without him noticing and slapped his face. He growled and took the hand holding my arm away for a brief moment to reel back and slap my cheek full force.

"Ya proddy bitch!" He shouted as he moved his hand on my chest up to my throat. "I've seen ya. I've seen your fave servin' at the Garrison." He pulled a gun on me and put it against my chin. "Come 'ere. I'm taking you in for interrogation on behalf of the Irish Free State."

Please, please work. I thought to myself as I plotted out my next move carefully. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I brought my knee up full force to his crotch, causing him to stumble off me for a second. That was all I needed to grab the hand with the gun and reverse the roles, pinning him up against the wall. While I was much shorter, I was also heavier than this man, so I had some advantage. I struggled to get hold of the gun, turning it towards him as much as possible.

Bang. One of us managed to pull the trigger. I gasped but felt no pain. I stood there for a moment as the man went still, and a warm and wet substance seeped onto my blouse. I stepped back to see bright red blood pooling on his stomach. He slid down the wall, unconscious. I panicked. No, no, no. Not again. I can't leave again. I have nowhere to go this time. I looked down at my blouse with the little red stain of blood now there. I closed my coat around me and tied it. Then I ran off home without looking back.

Alice

A few days later, it was Saturday, my new favorite day of the week. I started off the night with the tale of Ragnarok. After that, a man started to tell a story of his own, the story of Gancanagh, the seductive fairy from Irish folklore. While he told it, I went to the private room in The Garrison to serve beer to the Shelby brothers and some of their acquaintances.

"Would you also like some whiskey with the beer?" I asked no one in particular. I set the bucket of beer on the table.

"No. Just beer," Tommy took a drag of his cigarette.

"Why no whiskey, Tommy?" His brother, Arthur, I think, asked, "You expectin' trouble?"

Thomas did not answer. Instead, there was hooting and hollering coming from the main pub room. I continued to fill the beer mugs, ignoring the men out there.

"Jesus Christ, Tommy, what the hell made you let them tell stories like that?" Thomas' younger brother, John, laughed, "They sound like they're at a brothel."

"Alright," Arthur interrupted, "Twenty's the play. Come on. And what did make you change your mind, Tommy?"

I finished up giving out beer, so I walked away and could feel Thomas' gaze follow me.

Tommy

"And what did make you change your mind anyway?" My brother Arthur said. I didn't answer. After last night with Alice, I didn't want anyone to know I had feelings for her. She was too soft for my world, too innocent. So, instead, I just watched as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

I must not have been being as subtle as I thought because my brother John smiled at me, ""bout time, Tommy."

"Time for what?" I said nonchalantly.

"Time you took yourself a woman," John said.

"Just play the bloody hand," I changed the subject.

"You stay the way you are, Tommy. Remember what Dad used to say," Arthur chimed in. "Fast women and slow horses…"

"Will ruin your life," Arthur and John said simultaneously.

As I smiled at my brothers, a bright light flooded in through the windows. My smile faded. Something was wrong.

"Coppers?" John asked.

"No," I shook my head. Coppers would not give anything that would be considered as a warning. This was something worse than coppers.

I heard the doors to the pub open, and the whole room immediately went silent.

"Holy shit," I could hear Henry say from behind the bar, "It's Billy Kimber."

Shit.

"Is there any man here named Shelby?" an unfamiliar voice shouted.

Luckily, no one said anything.

BANG. A loud gunshot rang out.

"I asked, Is there any man here named Shelby?" The same voice said.

I had enough. This man was going to hurt someone. I slid out of the booth so I could open the door to the main room of the pub. I walked out of the private room, and my brothers followed.

"Harry, get these men a drink," I said, "Everyone else, go home!"

The patrons all scattered. Once we were sure they were all gone, I invited Billy Kimber and his men to sit at the large table in the middle of the pub. Before I could sit with them, Alice brought drinks over to the table.

"You go home," I pointed at her. I would not have her mixed up in the mess I was creating. Not yet anyway.

"But, Mr. Fenton said…" She started.

"I said to go home," I interrupted. She nodded and walked away.

Before she was out of earshot, Kimber spoke up, "I've never approved of women in pubs."

"You said you wanted a man named Shelby. Well, now you have three of 'em," I put a cigarette in my mouth.

"Right, I'd never heard of ya," Billy Kimber started, "Then I did hear of ya. Some little diddicoy razor gang. I thought to meself, 'so what?!' But then you fucked me over. So now you have my undivided attention… By the way, who am I talking to? Who is the boss?"

"Well, I'm the eldest," Arthur replied before I could answer.

Kimber scoffed, "Clearly."

"You laughin' at my brother?" John accused.

Kimber looked between my brothers, "Right, so, he's the oldest," he pointed at Arthur, "and you're the thickest," he pointed at John, and then turned to me, "I'm told the boss is called Tommy. Now, I'm guessing that's you 'cause you're looking me up and down like I'm a fucking tart."

"I wanna know what you want," I shrugged.

Kimber did not answer. Instead, the man next to him spoke up, "There were some suspicious betting patterns at Kempton Park. A horse called Monaghan Boy. He won by a length twice and then finished last with a three-thousand-pound bet on him."

Annoyed with this man's input instead of Kimber's, I asked, "Now, who am I talking to? Which one of you is the boss?"

"I'm Mr. Kimber's advisor and accountant," the man said.

"And I'm the fucking boss!" Kimber stood up, "'Kay, right, end of parley. You fixed a race without my permission, you fuckign gypsy scum. Live off the war pensions of these poor old Garrison Lane widows. That's your level! I am Billy fucking Kimber; I run the races! And ya fixed one of 'em, so I'm gonna have you shot against a post," He turned to leave after his outburst.

I stood and put out my cigarette in the ashtray, "Mr. Kimber?"

He turned around as his men pointed their guns at me. I tossed him the bullet the Lee family sent for me, "Look at it."

He did.

"That's my name carved in it," I said calmly, "It's from the Lee family. You are also at war with the Lees, Mr. Kimber, are you not?"

Kimber took a few steps towards the table.

"The Lees are attacking your bookies and taking your money. Your men can't control them. You need help."

"Perhaps we should listen to what Mr. Shelby has to say before we make our decisions," Kimber's assistant said.

"Right. The Lees are doing a lot of talkin' at the fairs. They have a lot of kin. They're saying the racetracks are easy meat because the police are busy with the strikes. Now, we have connections. We know how they operate. You have muscle. Together we can beat them. Divided, maybe not," I proposed, my plan falling into place.

"Mr. Kimber, perhaps we should take some time for reflection," Mr. Kimber's associate piped up, "possibly make arrangements for a second meeting."

I needed this done. So I said, "I admire you, Mr. Kimber. You started with nothing and made a legitimate business. It would be an honor to work with you, Mr. Kimber."

Kimber thought on it a second before boasting, "Nobody works with me. People work for me."

He tossed a coin on the floor, "Pick it up, pikey."

Instead of moving to pick it up immediately, I stood there and held his stare for a moment. When I did move to pick it up, John stood up, and Kimber's men started toward him.

"Sit. Sit down," I ordered my brother. Then I bent down and picked up the coin.

"It's for your ceiling," Kimber turned and walked to the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Kimber," I said as he walked out the door.

His assistant got up from his chair and walked up to me, "We will be at Cheltenham."

"As will I."

Once the men left, I locked the doors and walked back over to my brothers and our men.

"So you purposely picked a fight with the Lees," Arthur figured out, "Tommy, we can't mess with Billy fucking Kimber."

"Get yourself a decent haircut, man," I ignored his scolding and kept my plans to myself, "We're going to the races."