❝ PICKET FENCE! ❞ → GRAY ✓

→ iii.vi

Act Three, Scene Six

→ ❝ see you soon! ❞

             Tommy had nearly knocked down the door when he entered Polly's house, waking Michael and Carol up from their nap, curled up together on the rug in front of the fireplace with nothing but Michael's blazer covering them.

             "What?" Michael croaked groggily, turning his head in the vague direction of the door and trying not to wake Carol. The girl groaned as she woke up, holding onto Michael's arm that was draped across her bare chest as he spooned her.

             Tommy turned around and faced the window as Michael passed Carol her clothes, "I'm here to pick up Carol to take her to Small Heath," he reminded Michael, lighting a cigarette, "And you're going to get John. Ada's already seen Arthur, and Finn never fucking left."

             "Can I not go with Michael?" Carol asked while she shuffled her dress on over her underwear, smoothing the creases out of the light, expensive material, "Uh, you can turn around now," she told Tommy, buckling her shoes.

             Tommy shook his head, his cigarette hangingloosely between his lips. Michael cut in, picking a few crumpled petals from Carol's hair, moving his hand to hold her cheek and gazed into her eyes, "No. Carol, it's safest for you in Small Heath. Nearly every man there is a soldier for us, you'll be okay there."

             Carol didn't know what to say, and nervously tapped her foot on the floor three times like a child having a tantrum, "I don't want you to leave," she bit her lip, holding his hand against her face, "I want to be with you."

             The Shelby brother exhaled his cigarette smoke slowly, and finding the right moment to break the couple apart proved challenging. He couldn't stand to see Carol heartbroken again, but Michael was right: it wasn't safe for her to travel all the way out to John's house, not when strangers were willing to protect her in Small Heath, "We need to go now, Carol," he ordered softly, "The fucking mafia don't care about us being unprepared."

             Carol nodded, her wavy hair bobbing around her face, and took Michael's hand in hers, holding it tight to her heart. The three of them walked out to Tommy's car together, Carol sandwiched between the two men as though they were already protecting her, as if an Italian could jump out and ambush them at any second. For a moment, they stood at the side of the Bentley in a comfortable silence, and Carol rested her head against Michael's chest, breathing in his scent deeply. It relaxed her, like her own personal brand of cocaine.

             "See you soon," Michael placed a kiss on her lips, then on the top of her head and on her cheek. "I love you so much."

             "Stay safe," she warned as Michael moved towards his own car, anxious at letting go of his hand. The last time she had let go, they hadn't spoken for almost two years and Carol had almost died inside, "I love you. I love you."

             As pathetic as she knew it was, Carol was devastated. The thought of Michael being away from her, and in possible danger, made her sick to her stomach, and she tried to ignore the ominous feeling she felt as he drove off.

             "Congratulations," Tommy said as they drove back to Small Heath, breaking the silence that they were sat it. Carol – who had her eyes closed and was listening to the wind whistle by – wasn't paying much attention to what was happening.

             "Pardon?"

             "On getting married," he nodded to the silver band that sat atop her engagement ring, "I hope you're happy together."