Madame Angel ~ A Thomas Shelby Story

Chapter Six

Thomas and his brothers stayed at a hotel for the night, each of them getting a room. When he unlocked the door and opened it to a nicely made bedroom he closed and locked the door. He threw his trunk of clothes into a chair, his coat thrown on top of it and his cap thrown on the table. It was quite late as he looked out the window to see the London night scenery a cigarette in hand. He saw people drunk stumbling home or to another bar, a couple walk into an alley way most likely to fool around a bit. Thomas thought to tonight's events, making a statement at Sabini's club with his brothers, then his time at The Haven. He thought of Aurelia. How she handled business, a vixen then a vengeful angel all in the same breath of speech. She knew how to work a room and she was praised by every person in the room. Tommy himself had respect for the woman after everything but he knows she has a secret. He doesn't know why he's so keen on figuring it out, maybe Grace fucked him up more than he is willing to admit to himself.

Their little question game didn't give him much on her. He figured that she had a past she preferred to keep to herself, she obviously doesn't trust men much. Perhaps an old lover fucked her over, too. He did notice the way she handles her girls is almost motherly, they seek permission before going with a customer and when the girl, Lilian, was crying she handled her like a mum handles a child that fell and scratched up their knee. It was an interesting sight; she genuinely cares for them unlike most madams. Still Tommy couldn't shake the fact that Aurelia Cruz had secrets that he needed to know. "What are you hiding, Aurelia?" He asked no one; pronouncing her name with a small role in the 'r' like how she says it. "What is it?" He asks again to himself before stamping out the cigarette in a crystal ash tray before starting to undress. His suspenders lightly tap the sides of his legs as he shrugs them off, he unbuttons his vest and throws it on another chair. Next, he unbuttons his cuffs then the rest of his dress shirt. He undoes the button on his trousers and untucks his shirt whish joins his vest. His shoes are untied and kicked off but kept neatly by the bed, his socks and trousers join the shirt and vest as well.

He walks his way to his restroom and prepares himself a warm bath and gathers the cloth and soap for the bath placing them on or by the tub. He takes off his white undershirt revealing his scarred and toned torso as well as the tattoo on his chest. He let his shirt drop to the floor as well as his shorts, The light sound of the two fabrics hitting the floor are followed by the loud swish of Thomas' harsh steps into the tub before laying in it. He washed and scrubbed his skin, but days and memories don't wash out of him like Aurelia likes to pretend they do on her. This was the same skin he went to war in, the same skin that had been shot and stabbed, burned, and beaten. This is the same skin he's washed blood, dirt, soot and sweat from. It's also the same skin that has been touched by lying lovers, and women who have wanted him more than he has wanted them. It's the same skin his mother would bandage or clean when he got into a fight at school or in the streets. It has been cared for and scarred and those things don't wash away as hard as he may scrub or as hot as the water may be his hands are still stained with blood and his body still riddled with scars and scratches.