𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙖 • 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 [complete]

••• 2 •••

IT WASN'T that I felt more comfortable in trousers, or that I hated being a woman, or that I wanted to be a man. I dressed like the men because I did the same thing as them; running around and shooting people. I didn't think that that made me any less of a woman, and I'd cut out the eyes of anyone who said it did.

Ever since I was younger, I didn't want to grow up to be weak like my mother was; thrown around by a man her whole life. So I did what I had to to prove to the men in my life that I wasn't to be thrown around. That didn't mean wearing dresses made me weak. Trousers were just a lot more practical.

That was why days like these felt so alien to me, as I stood in front of the mirror wearing an emerald green dress with black detail, wondering how a change of outfit could make me feel so different.

John walked out of the connected bathroom, dressed in a dapper suit and tie.

"You look good." I said as I watched him through the mirror.

He looked up to me and stopped in his tracks, a small smile on his face. "Turn around."

I did as he said, praying with everything I had that I didn't do something stupid like blush or giggle.

John took in my appearance, looking me up and down before finally making eye contact. "You look smashing, Lex."

My breath hitched in my throat, "Lex."

He gave me a blank look.

I shook my head and smiled, "It's just, you haven't called me that since... before the war."

John looked to the ground for a few seconds before looking back up to me and smiling. "I didn't even realise I stopped. I still call you that in my head."

My head leaned to my left shoulder, "In your head?"

"When I'm thinking about you."

I let out a laugh, "You think about me?"

"All the time." I couldn't tell if he just wanted to stir a reaction out of me or if he was telling the truth.

"You're lying."

He shrugged, walking over to the bed to pick up his coat. "Whatever you say."

♤

THE FIRST few clubs we visited weren't as big as I expected. They were also pretty easy to sell to, as there weren't many gin distributors in London.

I could tell Tommy had strategically put the clubs on the list in a specific order, as the fourth club we entered that night was definitely a step up. I knew it would be harder than just flashing a smile and throwing a few compliments to get the owner to sign the contract.

"This is the fourth club we've stepped into tonight and I haven't had a sip of whiskey." John groaned as we approached the bar. "How am I supposed to get through this sober?"

I sighed. "One beer. No whiskey. We need to be on top form to make a good impression."

"Come on, Alex. We've got three contracts signed; Tommy will be happy with that."

"You really think that?" I let out an exasperated laugh, "That's the bare minimum, J. He's testing us with these big ones. The next six names on this list are the most important ones for us to bag. Tommy couldn't give a fuck about the last three places; they barely go through 10 bottles of gin a week. These last six clubs are the top dogs; this is where we could be selling hundreds of bottles a week. We get these contracts signed, and we prove to Tommy that we aren't just walking weapons. We prove that we could run his bloody business for him."