(19) Grace

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"Who is that?" Jemima says from where she was sat on a stool helping John write up the odds as Tommy guides two men through the shop, "I recognise him."

"That's Billy Kimber, you saw him in the pub when you were pissed out your head, claimed his hair was too oily." John replies.

"Drunk me was right, look at his hair. Looks like he swam here then decided to dump his head in a vat of fucking grease," Jemima says.

Kimber meets Jemimas eyes as they pass by heading towards Tommys office, Tommy gesturing for John to follow.

"This is my team," Tommy says as John, Lovelock, and Scudboat enter his office, "they'll take up their pitch at your convenience."

"John is the book; Scudboat is the bagman, and of course we bring our own protection." Tommy states.

"Warwick, next Saturday. At least 50 yards from the beer tent." Kimber orders, as Roberts hands a sheet to Tommy, who dismisses Scudboat and Lovelock, allowing John to stay beside him.

"Now, excuse me, I'm going to go have a look around," Kimber informs, walking out of the office, his eyes scanning the shop before locating Jemima still in the same spot.

He straightens himself up, before making his way towards her, "hello, love. It's nice to meet you, you can call me Billy."

"Hello, Mr Kimber," Jemima responds.

Despite the slight blow to his pride, he clears his throat, "so what's your job here? Sit here and look all pretty, nice little attraction for the scum of Small Heath?"

"No," Jemima says blankly, "I have no job here, I'm Johns friend. I'm just hanging about."

"Friend? That all?" Kimber asks, "anyone that isn't a friend?"

"I hardly see how that is of any interest to you," Jemima replies, her eyes drifting to Tommy who had stepped out of his office, his jaw slightly clenched when he notices Kimber proximity to her.

"You're a smart woman, surely you can understand my questioning?" Kimber says, raising his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"I understand it, I just don't see it relevant," Jemima scoffs, smacking his hand away from her face.

"Listen here-"

"Mr Kimber," Tommy intercepts, coming to stand beside Jemima in front of Billy, "the paperwork is all done, Roberts is waiting for you. I suggest you take your leave."

Billy's eyes dance between the two of them, "and here I was thinking you were shagging that barmaid of yours."

"Grace?" Jemima questions, side-eyeing Tommy who looks slightly guilty.

"No," Tommy states, "and should you want to keep the organ that makes you able to shag as you so eloquently put it, I'd step away before my brother decides to do something about it."

"Can't control your brother?" Kimber snorts.

"It's a matter of whether I would want to, now leave," Tommy says, Kimber turns his nose up at them, before striding away.

"Grace?" Jemima speaks quietly, not even wanting to look at him.

"I did not sleep with Grace, Morrigan," Tommy responds.

"But you've done something with her." Jemima states, and Tommy doesn't reply.

"Our agreement was that we couldn't shag anyone else, it never ruled out the possibility of anything else." Tommy says.

"Wow," Jemima scoffs, pushing herself off the stool, "you are a fucking prick."

"I didn't break any rules, it's not my fault you were too naive to believe I wouldn't make a loophole," Tommy shrugs, "Morrigan, look at me."

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