𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 • 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮

• 1 •

"ROOM 1201?" 

"Doing great; profit of £500 in the last fortnight."

"Sunshine?" 

"£452."

"The Sapphire?"

"£639.66."

"And finally," Michael turned over the page, scribbling down notes. "The Millennium?"

"£812.50," I replied, putting the papers down onto the desk.

He read through the notes before slowly nodding and looking back up to me. "It's been a good month."

"It's been a very good month," I agreed, smirking at him. "But I could have told you that over the phone."

"Any problems?" Michael asked, ignoring my statement. "That's the least Sunshine has made all year."

"There was a slight... kerfuffle," I admitted, sitting back in my chair. "A fight broke out. Nothing too serious, but we had to close the club for a few days to repair everything."

"Kerfuffle?" He pressed, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly happened?"

I rolled my eyes, "It's nothing to worry about, Michael. John and I have been running the clubs for five years with little to no issues; we don't need to be checked on so often."

"It's just formalities, Alex," He sighed, closing his notebook. Giving me a smile, he sat back in his chair. "Formalities aside, how have you been?"

"Busy," I answered, running my finger around the rim of my glass. "Between raising Gerald and managing four clubs, I hardly get a minute to myself."

"Miss Birmingham?" He asked, tilting his head.

I shrugged, unsure of how I was feeling. "Sometimes. But life here is good. Better."

"A bad girl living the good life; trouble's bound to crop up," He mused, before picking up his glass of whiskey and taking a sip. He kept his eyes on me as he slowly put his glass back down onto the desk as he shot me a wink. "How long can you stay out of trouble, Alexandra?"

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him playfully. "I've survived this long."

"I'm beginning to think the stories I heard about you were all fabricated," Michael admitted. "Before I met you, I was told all about the fearsome Alexandra Romero and her gruesome, merciless ways. But as I sit here, all I see is John's pretty wife."

I wanted to throw my glass at him, but I hadn't used violence in so long, and I didn't want to break my streak just because of him. "Well, I'm not Alexandra Romero anymore, so I don't care if you don't see her. That was all in my past. And there it stays."

"Are you sure about that?" Michael asked, tilting his head. "Because, if what I've heard is true, then that kind of shit doesn't just disappear. That kind of shit seeps through the cracks."

"It sounds like you want me to slip up, Michael," I said with a dry laugh.

"Of course not," He insisted. "I'm glad that you've made a new life for yourself; that you've escaped Small Heath. But I'm a cynic, Alex."

"And I'm a realist," I countered. "I've been good for five years. I've had offers, threats, temptations to resort back to the girl I used to be - and I've closed the door on all of them. You may know who I used to be, but I know who I am now. And you may not like hearing that, because you want the clubs for yourself, but I'm sorry, Michael. I'm not going to slip up."