It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THE JEWISH GANGSTER HAD BEEN GIVING HER THE COLD SHOULDER for the past two days since their kiss on the balcony of the London Pavilion. Alfie hadn't been shouting, cursing nor raging like a mad bull, and that made Mercy more uneasy. His silent treatment scared her, and it reminded her of Alejandra. Every time she would do something wrong, instead of getting mad at her as usual parents do, Alejandra would give her the silent treatment. The worst part was that she would talk to everyone else like nothing was wrong.
She didn't want to upset Alfie any further, even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but still, Mercedes gave him the space he needed— she only talked when she's spoken to.
Mercedes just distanced herself away from him, and she'll be right there waiting for him to talk to her again.
It was already time for a lunch break, she quickly picked her handbag up and left the room without saying anything. Cyril whimpered as the woman left without giving him head pats, "Fuck off, will ya?" Alfie rolled his eyes and leaned his head on the seat. He massaged his temple and drew a deep breath, he wanted to talk to Mercedes but he was ashamed of what he did that night. It was screwing him inside and out.
Alfie was mad at himself because he knew that even if he kissed her, nothing would change—her heart would always belong to Thomas Shelby. Mercedes was just another wish and dream of Alfie that would never come true and it hurts him to think she'd never look at him the same way he does.
He is her friend, and that's all Alfie will ever be.
Mercedes, on the other hand, strolled alongside Noah as they walked to Arlington Road to buy pastries. She seemed more at ease with the young lad than with Ollie, perhaps because she reminded him of Iago. They were both carefree, witty, and sincere. Mercedes was sorely missing him.
"Can I ask somethin, Ms. de Silva?" Noah turned his face to the raven-haired woman, his little curls bouncing and her black heels clicking as they walked down the pebbled streets of Camden High.
Mercedes nodded at the young lad, trying to brush off the prickling pain behind her right ear, "Sure, what is it?" she held the cigarette between her pointer and middle finger as she flicked off the cigar's ash that fell on the ground. "Is Mr. Solomons sick? I 'aven't seen 'im like a charging bull lately. I 'ccidentally dropped a crate yesterday but he ain't even looked at me!"
She cracked a weak smile and thought she could ask herself the same thing, "Now, don't you worry about it. He's just occupied, and you're lucky he didn't bash your head in for that," Mercy joked earning a forced laugh from Noah.
Not only was their boss's unexpected behavior strange, but having a completely silent Alfie around freaked them out even more because they couldn't read his mind. "And what of ya, Miss? Are ya okay?" Noah asked once more, his hands grabbing the pole of a street lamp before circling around it.
Mercy paused for a while and bit the inside of her cheek, no one had asked her if she was okay for the past few days. "I am, thank you for asking," she nodded at him, but Noah just narrowed his gaze towards the woman—as if he could see through her blatant lie.
