The Shelby Family Legacy // Alfie Solomons

Final act Tommy

Thomas was frisked and held at gun point as he walked into the bakery. Opera music echoed through the bakery.

'Mr. Solomons is no longer tolerating smoking tobacco in his presence,' one of the bakers told Tommy as he was let through passing by all the barrels of rum the lights flickering on as he passed.

'I always thought that the opera was just fat people fucking shouting.' Alfie said.

'And what do you think now? ' tommy questioned.

'I think the sound reminds me of a tenor in full passion, reminds me of crying out Italian soldiers when I had my bayonet inside them.' Alfie told him. 'Ever since my own death I have been somewhat haunted by it.' Tommy took a seat 'instead of fighting these voices I decided to write their songs down you know and turn them into an opera of my own,' Tommy pulled out a cigarette. 'Do not lite that,' Alfie said sternly 'No no were you not told that I have a condition?'

'What I was told Alfie,' Tommy said lighting a cigarette 'is that you have withdrawn, that you spend your days alone, obsessing about opera singers.'

'And fucking me wife.' Alfie told him watching the smoke rise and fall around Tommy. 'But Opera is not fucking singing is it?' Alfie countered 'Opera is not singing it's not singing, it's the sound that people make before word and I do not allow smoking because I do not see fucking clearly all right?' tommy didn't speak just stared. 'What do you sense weakness in Israel?' Alfie pondered when Tommy just stared at him.

'Not a sense of weakness no Alfie. A certain knowledge of it you've been sat here writing your opera. A member of your family has died. Charles Solomon your uncle he ran all the narcotics bootlegging prostitution gambling syndicates out of East Boston but last January poor old Charlie well... He was shot in the cotton club in the laboratory by men that you know and yet you did nothing Alfie.' Alfie flipped a table over turning away and outrage.

'Now my opera is called America!' he shouted 'America is my fucking masterpiece!'

'The truth is your uncle is dead,' Tommy told him calmly 'Boston is gone and you once the big man who ran Camden town. now can't even extinguish another man's cigarette.' Kat came walking in her heels clicking on the ground.

'Thomas' she plucked the cigarette from his mouth stomping it under her foot, he glanced up at her glaring down at him.

'let alone his fucking life ain't that right now?' tommy questioned. 'Hello Katnip.'

'I need a fucking final act right just a final fucking act for my opera!' Alfie told him 'yeah?'

'You know Alfie. I think I may have written your final act,' Tommy told him 'why don't you sit down and have a listen ey?' Slowly Alfie sat down there was a moment of silence as Kat rolled her eyes walking over to Alfie.

'I have 5 tons of pure refined opium sitting in one of my warehouses in Liverpool. I have safe storage off the coast of Canada I also have men willing to distribute it,' Tommy said slowly and clearly. 'In Toronto Quebec New York and Boston the income will be immediate and would shift the balance of power back in Boston into the favor of the Solomon's family.' Kat rose a curious brow. She wasn't fond of being back in the life with her kids but she would rather be in power, near the top then at the bottom.

'And why would you want that Tommy? Solomons in power?' kat questioned.

'In the final act that I'm giving you Alfie is you get to take revenge.' Tommy told him.

'Why would you sell?' Alfie questioned.

'The Irish are being difficult the Italians are not an option also Alfie you, are my friend' Tommy told him and Kat scoffed.

'Friend, I love you Tommy but I think you and Alfie are far from the F word.' Kat informed him.

'Will you take the credit?' Alfie questioned.

'No no I will take a property, you own half of the warehouse in Camden.' Tommy told him 'I'll take them and knock them down build houses for the needy and the deserving' Tommy told him. Alfie ponder the idea for a moment playing with his lamp.

'Yeah well the um... the Irish have always been difficult, Tommy,' alfie agreed, 'tell me you know what about 700 years? You know I once saw an Irishman arguing with a statue of Oliver Cromwell in Parliament Square in the argument went on for quite a while actually went onto the night as his little voice echoed all around the houses and apartments as he got more and more angered and Oliver Cromwell was... Reluctant. Someone to answer his legitimate question so angered and fact that eventually he punch the statue in the nose and broke his fucking hand.'

'He punched at statue?' kat questioned. Alfie nodded kissing her hand.

'And there it is the irish question, you know how come you can remember so much about what happened 200 years ago... yet we just can't remember what happened fucking last night?'

'How much is it tom?' kat questioned, she felt like she was making a deal with the devil but as least it was the devil she knew.