Romeo's Right Hand Man

“I thought you would…” Reds said with a fake tremble on his lips. 

Reds kept a steady flow of cigarettes to his lips on the walk to Little John’s. He was worried about his family. The safe house would be the best place for them, but that would involve pulling the little ones out of school. Moira could teach them at home, but they were a rambunctious bunch. Little Clara especially. It wouldn’t surprise him if Clara grew up to be just like “Aunt Timber.”

Before he could speak, Reds ducking behind a cart. He didn’t even realize that Timber had been shot. “Where the fuck did these fuckers come from?” He screamed as he took his gun out and shot blindly into the alley.”

“God dammit!” She seethed as she changed the gun into her other hand, her wounded arm loose at her side. She fired in tandem with Reds, ignoring the screams and mayhem it caused in the streets. Timber saw one of their would-be assassins cry out and fall, and took aim at another. 

“They were fucking waiting for us! How the fuck did they know we’d be coming, Reds?!” Wood splintered over their heads, bullets pinging off the street around them. 

Romeo nodded his head slowly. This woman could handle herself, and for that he was grateful, but it wasn’t as though it was one less thing to worry about. She was family. More than family, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was easy to replace those feelings with work. Priorities were simple. These feelings he had were not. 

There was no such thing as resting in her flat. Perhaps some tension relief, which he needed. But having her by his side offered some peace. Sometimes he would lay beside her, thinking of what life would be like if he wasn’t in this business. Maybe he’d live in a secluded area by the beach where he didn’t have to watch his back. Maybe he could go fishing. He’s never been fishing before. In all of his scenarios, Timber and Reds were at his side. However, it was Timber whom he would take his morning coffee with and discuss the news. He’d skip over the obituaries. 

“I’ll be over later tonight.” He said before going back to his messed up desk.

However many years they’d known one another, Timber still had a difficult time reading Romeo. That was by design, she figured–if he wanted her to, she would. Problem was, he never wanted her to. Didn’t mean she didn’t still catch a peak now and again. Probably irritated the shit out of him. With luck, she would continue to do so, and likely longer than he’d like.

Reds knew that they needed alone time.

The walk to Little John’s was fairly quiet, both with the world on their minds and on their shoulders. It wouldn’t take long for them to arrive on the street, and for the moment, Timber let her mind relax. All she needed was to get changed, handle a little business, and then–

Timber hadn’t processed the fact that the sound she’d heard was a gunshot until she’d felt the searing pain in her arm. The bullet had only grazed her flesh, but the ones following after intended further harm and worse damage. 

Reds kept a steady flow of cigarettes to his lips on the walk to Little John’s. He was worried about his family. The safe house would be the best place for them, but that would involve pulling the little ones out of school. Moira could teach them at home, but they were a rambunctious bunch. Little Clara especially. It wouldn’t surprise him if Clara grew up to be just like “Aunt Timber.”

Romeo nodded his head slowly. This woman could handle herself, and for that he was grateful, but it wasn’t as though it was one less thing to worry about. She was family. More than family, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was easy to replace those feelings with work. Priorities were simple. These feelings he had were not. 

There was no such thing as resting in her flat. Perhaps some tension relief, which he needed. But having her by his side offered some peace. Sometimes he would lay beside her, thinking of what life would be like if he wasn’t in this business. Maybe he’d live in a secluded area by the beach where he didn’t have to watch his back. Maybe he could go fishing. He’s never been fishing before. In all of his scenarios, Timber and Reds were at his side. However, it was Timber whom he would take his morning coffee with and discuss the news. He’d skip over the obituaries. 

“I’ll be over later tonight.” He said before going back to his messed up desk.

However many years they’d known one another, Timber still had a difficult time reading Romeo. That was by design, she figured–if he wanted her to, she would. Problem was, he never wanted her to. Didn’t mean she didn’t still catch a peak now and again. Probably irritated the shit out of him. With luck, she would continue to do so, and likely longer than he’d like.

Reds knew that they needed alone time.

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He wasn’t merely being placating–Romeo didn’t have the time for that, nor did he care about something so silly. If it wasn’t the truth, he didn’t say it. That didn’t mean Timber had to like it. Still in her temper, she refused to face him just yet. She needed to keep herself from throwing whatever shard she could find at him.

Ultimately, Timber finally took a few deep breaths, and glanced back to him. “You’re the boss.” She finally managed, though it was practically through gritted teeth. “I’ll strap on the pair of tits too, shall I?”

Another beat, then, “Mis has the right stuff to wear. I’ll borrow hers. At least she can tie it properly.”

“The tits you have are just fine.” Romeo said as he tapped some ash into his ashtray. He stood up and put on his jacket, shrugging it over his shoulders. He stood in front of Timber and looked down at her. There may have been a flicker of admiration in his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, Timber.” It was the safest for her. Their allies wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her, not if Little John went with her and there was no way in hell that Little John wasn’t going with her. “I’ll keep you informed on any news from the Professor and Cobb.”

She wanted to be irritated with him, even lifting her chin as if ready for the fight. It was difficult to keep it up when he looked at her like that. Timber had been exposed to him long enough to see the almost imperceptible shifts in his expression, and when he looked at her this way…

The sigh escaped through her nose, and she finally nodded. She couldn’t have it both ways. Not always.

“Moira took the kids to the country for a while.” Reds reported back. “And I’d like to accompany Timber and Little John. Three heads are better than--”

“He’s in, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go in right now.” Reds said. He leaned back in his seat and looked at his shirt and back up at Timber. “When did you care about what I wear? I’m not lookin’ to impress you! Just my wife and Edith.” He grinned lazily at Edith before glancing at Timber. “Though I think my wife would like it better on the floor, if you know what I mean.”

There was a slight sigh as he glanced at his pocket watch to check out the time. “He’s got an appointment in about two hours and he’s tryin’ to cross his t’s and dot his i’s. You know how he gets. Gotta have a plan B…C…all the way to Z and then some.”

“Boy, nobody wants to hear about your wife’s poor taste in men.” Timber replied immediately, rolling her eyes, though her lip quirked affectionately. While Moira’s taste was questionable, Timber couldn’t think of another couple that seemed to match so perfectly as she and Reds did. They were a unit, and if she had been the romantic sort, she might’ve envied them for it.

Glancing toward the office doors, she pursed her lips, mentally weighing her options. Just how much of Romeo’s wrath did she want to risk incurring? While it likely wouldn’t be as severe as if one of the soldiers had burst in on him, his temper was something to be wary of and rivaled her own. 

“Is he in?” She asked, all but sweeping into the room toward Romeo’s office without much pause. Maybe she already knew he was there–maybe she didn’t care, and planned to wait. 

Glancing back to Reds, she arched a brow. “That’s a terrible color on you, buddy. Did the missus pick that out?”

“I picked it out, thank ye.” Edith replied, sharp but not unkind. She brought up the tray of tea balanced on her hip, and placed it down on the desk. “I think he looks handsome in it, an’ I’ll wager so does the missus.”

It was why he wasn’t entirely shocked when the first fist collided with his face, mashing the cigarette he’d just put to his lips and knocking him on his ass. 

He gave a small nod, not yet wanting to even try to think of anyone he’d want the gang to know of. Who knew what they would actually do to them? It all sounded great…a perfect sales pitch from Reds, but who was to say what would actually happen the following day, or the days even after?

What if they got a hold of Biddy?

It was why he wasn’t entirely shocked when the first fist collided with his face, mashing the cigarette he’d just put to his lips and knocking him on his ass. 

“I think I’ve done pretty well. I’m not livin’ in the lap of luxury, but I have a better life here than I had in Ireland.” He turned the corner. “Don’t wanna go down that street in your state. That’s the Forty Thieves gang territory. At least, they’re trying to build up their numbers. They aren’t dangerous, and I don’t think they’re going to be. Just a bunch of kids thinkin’ they’re tough.” 

He grinned. “The best thing that ever happened to me. What about you? Life get any better?”

“Instead of forty of ‘em, there’s probably about twelve, eh?” Rat attempted to joke, the idea laughable–but then again, he’d just seen what those kids could grow up to be. Nobody was laughing at that. 

Rat considered the question, thinking back on what life had been like in Bolton and the Jones Zoo, as his mum liked to called it. It had been easier there; growing up in a place always makes it easier, but it hadn’t been what he needed. He’d needed to go out, explore, grow with his friends, and if his mum had anything to say about it, he’d settle down, too.

That thought felt like another sucker punch to his stomach. If he thought about it too much, it would only put him in a blacker mood than he’d started out with, and Reds–someone who likely could be a friend–didn’t need to hear his woes. It would make a better song than a story, at any rate.

It was why he wasn’t entirely shocked when the first fist collided with his face, mashing the cigarette he’d just put to his lips and knocking him on his ass. 

He kicked at a pebble in the street, and almost immediately regretted it as something pulled in his leg. Still, he did his best on his own, not wanting to appear weak in front of someone who was…clearly not in the same field as he was. “Opportunity.” He nodded. “Came with me lads to see what America had to offer. Everyone talks about New York, whether they love it or hate it. We came to play our music, yeah? And we do, sometimes. Not as much these days…”

“It’s like the news got all mangled by the time it went overseas. Land of opportunity my ass. Not hirin’ Irish or blacks for anythin’, no matter how hard we work.” He growled. It was the first time since he met Rat that he showed a side of him that wasn’t as pleasant and welcoming. His green eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “Fuckin’ idiots.”