you'd spent the night being interrogated by campbell.

"i've already told you, i don't know," you said to the inspector and sergeant moss, a man who'd been on the peaky blinders payroll for quite some time now if you were remembering his face correctly. "i must've blacked out, i don't remember a thing."

"so you don't remember taking a bloody gun into the garrison tonight?" sergeant moss asked, an eyebrow quirked at you.

"i have no idea what you're talking about..." you were stonewalling them. what did it matter if your sister and bastard husband were dead? it's not like they had money or power, just a poor couple of suckers who'd gotten the kinder end of the deal in your opinion, truthfully you would have much rather been dead than stuck here listening to these fucks debate your innocence and whether or not you were as good in a bed as you were on stage.

after enough time had passed and campbell could say he at least tried to pull a confession out of you it was the wee hours of the morning and you were taken back to a cold, grey holding cell till the bus could take you to a women's jail, apparently only god knew how long that was going to take. so you lied on the hard, uneven, concrete and waited.

did you really have to shoot them? yes. when you found them together in the hotel bed that the money you earned paid for, you saw white. your sister was a dummy for thinking charlie was smart enough to avoid getting caught and charlie was just the same for assuming that of her.

all that time busting your ass, working as many shows as you could, travelling all throughout europe with them. how many times had they done it? how many times had he kissed you after he'd had your own fucking sister in his mouth? stupid son of bitch, you thought. how you ended up with such scum you'd never know.

"l/n! time to go." you sat up from the ground and saw sergeant moss standing with john shelby through the bars. your brow furrowed. moss opened the cell door and gestured you up.

"ya'd better move if you wanna make it to the garrison before tommy leaves." john said. you stood up and walked to him, he had a coat to cover up your show dress. "christ, you're freezing." your dress was covered in whatever dirty muck had been on the floor and your stockings were torn from the brawl that transpired at your arrest. " go on." john nodded.

you walked a couple feet away, peaking over your shoulder to watch moss and john share a sly handshake. john withdrew first and approached you, putting his arm over your shoulder. the two of you didn't speak till you were out of the jailhouse and settled into the motorcar.

"be honest, john, i'm fucked aren't i?" you said quietly, eyes darting to his.

"agh hell, don't ask me, y/n. i'm just the driver." he chuckled, blowing smoke out the window. "but we both know tommy prefers you to that bastard inspector. you make us money."

"great," you sighed, arms crossed in disdain. "now i owe the shelby's a debt."

"that you do, love." john laughed.

when the car finally stopped in front of the garrison john didn't waste anytime pushing you out to the curb.

"he's still in there." john called out as he pulled the car away. you bit down on your tongue in frustration and then stepped inside the pub. it was still so early, it must've only been harry and tommy in there.

you didn't even have to ask after him, the second you were passed the threshold, the private room's door opened and thomas stood waiting for you. he didn't say anything. just nodded his head, telling you to step inside.

"mr. shelby--"

"stop." tommy spoke finally, putting a hand up to silence you. "what'ddya say to him?"

"... nothing." you said, "i blacked out, i don't know what happened." thomas choked on his cigarette when he chuckled.

"and that's what you've told him? that you don't remember?" you nodded. a little blown away that he was laughing in your face about the situation.

"mr. shelby, i can't go back to him," you said firmly, talking about campbell, "he'll string me up or he'll make me a whore. i refuse to do either, so cut him up or cut me."

"ya want me to cut you?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.

"it's not about what i want, it's about what i don't want, and i don't want that pathetic excuse for an officer to have any say in my future."

"well sweetheart, you've managed to create a cluster fuck of problems for me in a matter of a night, i've already lost one of my showgirls because you seem to have a fuckin' temper and now i have to find someone to pin her and your husband's murders on."

"why?" you scoffed. "what good would that do you? or me for that matter? they already think i did it."

"that's cause you did do it." thomas said snidely, taking a sip of whiskey. "and i can't afford to have harry looking for new acts while i'm trying to conquer london. he needs to mind the pub and you need to mind the crowds of men that come here to gawk 'atcha."

you bit down on your tongue again.

"do we have an understanding?" he asked. you sat with it for second, thomas was offering to get you off the hook for damn near free, it was too good to be true.

"i'm not working for free." you countered.

"course you're not, you're working to dig yourself and me out of the hole you've put us in."

"three shows a week." you said. yeah beggars couldn't be choosers, but that didn't mean you had to starve and sleep on the streets especially because if there was one person who could get you the fuck out of this mess, it was thomas shelby. his eyes narrowed at your half-assed attempt to negotiate, like he was at least pretending to think it over.

"five shows a week, you get three hundred and i keep your bonny ass out of the jailhouse." he said finally. you sighed and sat down to shake his hand. tommy put his cigarette out and shook your hand. "you better get ready." he said. you nodded going to leave till he spoke again. "and i'd take a bath, love, you've got a show tonight and not even the soldiers will want to touch you smelling like that."