Midwest Mermaid

“Of the four men,” he yelled over the crowd to her. “Three agreed to bid. All American soldiers. We'll meet in the stock room in twenty minutes.”

Dove frowned.

“Let me find a fourth,” she yelled back. “I can talk one more into it.”

“Twenty minutes,” Elijah yelled back, tapping at his watch as he started to move away from her in the crowd.

Dove looked around the room, smiling at any eyes that met her own. She didn't recognize any of them enough to be sure they would drive up her price. It was too little time to talk a stranger into paying a hefty price.

“Excuse me, miss,” an older man tipped his hat off into his hand as he stood in front of her. “A friend asked me to find a lady, you see, and I think you might be the one.”

“Who are you asking for, sugar?” Dove asked absentmindedly as she continued to survey the crowd for a familiar face.

“She's a bird, you see,” he said. “He specifically said to find her when he's gone. Once we got the wagon burning, I asked around and they said she'd be here.”

“Wagon burning?” Dove asked, perplexed, as she found her target in the crowd: a rich, married man in a suit she recognized that often visited Small Heath to cheat and gamble. “I'm sorry, sugar, I've got someone to speak to. Excuse me.”

The man furrowed his bushy dark eyebrows as she stepped around him, smiling big as she met the rich man's eyes. Charles? Or was it Neil? No matter.

She needed to pay off her debt tonight, before Elijah found a new way to torture her under his rule. She had a target on her back that wasn't going away anytime soon unless she could assuage his temper with coin.

“Well hello there, again,” she said warmly as she hugged the rich man. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I've got a predicament and you're the only man that can help me.”

“Is that right?” He laughed. “And what predicament are you in now, Dove?”

“Let's get you a drink first, sugar,” Dove said with a wink before playfully tugging on his tie. “Cool you down before I heat you up.”

She pulled him to the bar, signaling the bartender for a drink. One came quickly without a word, just a tally mark on a paper to be collected at the end of the night. The man sipped his drink as Dove did her best to be exactly the girl he wanted.

“Oh darling,” she pouted as she wrapped herself around him. “You're just in time. I've been away for a few days, and the most egregious men are fighting over my night. I'd much rather spend my evening with a gentleman like yourself. Those soldiers are so unrefined. You,” she said, biting her lip as she looked up at him before smiling, “are exactly the type of man I need.”

“And what's that going to take, Dove?” He hummed, pleased.

Dove smiled.

“Follow me to the backroom and talk with Elijah,” she said, intertwining her fingers in his before leading the way.

She pushed through the storage room door to find three men with Elijah, who was already impatiently tapping his foot.

“Nearly late,” he glared.

“Merely on time,” she sang back. “Boys, I introduce our fourth bidder for my services tonight. I feel mighty lucky to be so popular. One of you is going to have a very good night.”

“Alright lads,” Elijah said, looking between the four men. “Starts at 10 pence, who wants a full night of Dove’s attention?”

One of the soldiers nodded his bid. Of the four, three were soldiers from America, with lust in their hearts and money burning in their pocket. What else was there to do in a foreign land but drink their beer and fuck foreign women? It had been long enough that most men knew to keep their wedding rings off and the tan that used to indicate it was long gone in England’s dreary overcast.

“Ten pence is barely a start,” Dove eyed Elijah, careful to sound playful. “I'm worth much more than a decent dinner. Anyone care to double it? I've been cooped up inside for days. Show a girl a good time.”

“I'll double it,” the rich man said, a smirk on his lips as he looked down on the soldiers.

“Make it triple,” a young soldier said, eyeing the man back.

“Half pound here,” the rowdiest of the soldiers said, taking a step forward. “You can sit on my lap as I gamble before you earn it back.”

Dove batted her lashes, biting her lip playfully as she spun around like a show pony. She did her best to hide her nervousness. The man was known to be too rough; even Elijah would have known him as such. Too reckless to be safe. The other soldiers patted their friend as they laughed at his candor.

“A pound then,” the rich man said. “A gentleman knows discretion.”

“Ain't no gentlemen hiring a whore,” the young soldier laughed as the three continued their uproar. Dove did her best to smile and smooth it over.

“Do you boys want to pay for drinks for a blushing girl all night, just to find there's no satisfaction?” Dove laughed. “Or would you rather pay for a guarantee of a good time?”

“Two pounds,” the youngest soldier said. “Til sun up.”

“Two pounds ‘til sun up it is,” Elijah smiled. “That our highest price for Miss Dove?”

“Fuck it, two and a half,” the raucous soldier said.

“Three,” the rich man said as he reached for Dove's waist. “Put your pence away and return to your barracks empty handed.”

“Fuck,” one of the soldiers swore. “For that price I'll hire two whores half her age. Goodnight.”

Dove's smile faltered before she did her best to bring it back. She took the man's hand and twirled with a giggle.

“My hero,” she sighed into his arms.

The man puffed at her response, handing Elijah the three pounds. Dove plucked the money from his hands before he could frown.

“I'll pay our Rom Baro myself, thanks,” Dove said, folding the money into her palm. “I won't have you pocket half and hide my worth.”

Elijah gritted his teeth but nodded in agreement.

“Thank you boys for your interest,” Dove said with a playful curtsy and a smile to the group. “I'll be right back to our winner once I pay the boss.”

She walked out of the storage room, careful to dart between the patrons to get to the dark corner chair. Duke sat, drinking whiskey, watching the crowd.

“Three pounds to our illustrious leader,” Dove said, playfully taking the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

She palmed the money into his hand, noticing the wheel tattoo between his pointer finger and thumb.

“As promised, I've paid my debt back.”

“So you have.”

His face held nothing. No impressed look. No care. No anger. Just a blank look with the same blue eyes of his father, and a chip on his shoulder bigger than his body. A curse on his shoulders that had lasted generations and weighed him down.

“Right,” Dove said with uncertainty, stepping back.

“Why you?” Duke asked, finally meeting her eyes. “Where’s Elijah?”

Dove shifted her stance, suddenly too aware of her bare feet, contemplating how to answer.

“You won't tolerate uselessness or competition,” she said finally. “Shelbys never have. Elijah is Isaiah’s cousin. Been raised around the Shelbys. He's the same ilk.”

“What are you, then?”

“I've been around Small Heath a long time,” Dove said, a smile tugging on her lips. “I know my place.”

A spark lit in Duke's eyes, and for a moment Dove could see Tommy in him.

“Didn't answer my question, Dove.” He said simply.

Dove had always thought Tommy was quiet. He was in his head and never had enough words to share. Duke was worse. She couldn't read him at all. He was blank. At least Tommy seemed to have an inner world bustling with life; a mind that never stopped. Duke was quiet. Still. Deadly.

“I know enough not to be useless,” Dove said. “Especially around men who would easily cut my throat for a misstep.”

“What's left, then?”

“Your second is trying to grab more power,” she said softly. “I'm just a means to do so. Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.”

Duke nodded as he pocketed the money. He watched her closely as she walked away toward a tall gentleman in a suit. She had relaxed into a prance of a walk, her face twisted in fake delight as she played her part convincingly. Duke hummed.

Dove returned to her flat as the sun rose, ready for a hot bath and sleep. The evening had proven a bit dull but fine enough. She sat on his lap as a good luck charm as he gambled and lost to the house. He grumbled at his highs and lows, but the man was too fixated on the hem of her dress riding up to notice her small nods to fix the table against him. Elijah would be pleased they drained the man's pockets as thoroughly as his balls.

She eased herself into the bath and let her mask drop, her sorrow and problems flooding back to etch the lines on her face. She checked herself over, wincing as her fingertips ran over the yellowed bruise on her side. A few more days and it would be gone; no longer a reminder of the bittersweet night she held Tommy Shelby.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the urgency, the sheer need he had when he clung to her. She had been thinking of him when she went through the motions the night before. She had been thinking about the spark in Duke Shelby’s blue eyes.

She closed her eyes and slipped her head under the water, hearing her heart beat a slow steady rhythm.

Was it love? Dove wasn't entirely sure she knew what love was, precisely. She cared. She cared for lots of people. She cared after the other whores when a man was too aggressive. She cared about the men who were regulars at the Garrison, old men that chatted with her without prejudice. She cared for Thomas Shelby, with his beautiful blue eyes and the fact he cared about his community. She thought she cared for Duke Shelby, the son who never got to meet the good parts of his father.

Dove gripped the sides of the tub and pulled herself back up, letting the air fill her lungs. The water ran down her face.

“I could have held you down,” a deep voice said.

Dove's eyes shot across the room. Elijah leaned on her doorway, a smug smile on his face. Her knuckles turned white and her breath drew shallow. Elijah surveyed Dove as her eyes darted around the room like a caged animal.

“I could have held you down,” he repeated louder, watching her squirm. “Drowned you without you even knowing I was here.”

“I'm not a threat to you,” Dove said, voice quivering. “Tommy's dead. I have nothing you want.”

“You forget your place,” he said. “You belong to me.”

“I belong to the Peaky Blinders,” she said, louder. “I know my place. Do you know yours?”

“Duke put me in charge of the bar and whores,” he retorted. “You work for me.”

“Do your job and I'll do mine,” she said as she pressed her back against the tub and pulled her knees to her chest in an attempt to cover herself. “I made plenty of money last night. Three pounds and we cleaned him out at the gambling table. What more do you want?”

Elijah walked to the tub and grabbed her face, forcing her chin up to look up at his face.

“Everything,” he said with a chuckle. “Fucking everything.”

Dove sat passively, her heart beating out of her chest. If she didn't move, maybe he'd go. It finally clicked in her head; he wasn't mad she talked to Tommy. He was mad that she jumped command. He felt slighted that she didn't fall to his feet. He wanted her fear. He wasn't looking for loyalty.

“Yessir,” she whispered finally, fighting herself to meet his eyes. Elijah nodded.

“Good,” he cleared his throat and let her go. “Back this evening, then. You keep your end and I'll keep mine.”

He pointed his finger at her.

“You ever move around me again,” he mimed, slicing his neck.

She nodded. Elijah walked back to the doorway, hesitating before turning back to her.

“You'll be moving back to days next week,” he said. “Customers like variety. Your moon tea is steeping.”

A stone fell into the pit of Dove's stomach. She nodded. Elijah waited for a moment, and once he was certain she would not protest, he left, slamming her door behind him.

Dove exhaled a shaky breath, flexing her fingers and letting go of the tub.

Day shift was a different beast from night. It was mostly American military men looking for company. There were no quick exchanges. They wanted to pretend the girls cared like their wives back home. Nights were often like large parties, slipping between customers to make large sums. Days required finding one man to bankroll your day. Military men had funds, but rarely became regulars for long. Their eyes wandered as often as their hands.

She had initially liked days. As time went on, it felt more like a burden. Nights were easier to make money in and be done.