Mr Black

7. Guy Black

Tuesday Morning

Guy hated Birmingham. Just the fowl stench of the old Victorian canals had his nose turning up and his stomach expelling his breakfast, and don't get him started on the Brummie accent. He couldn't fathom why Cassidy had decided to move here of all the places she could have chosen within the UK. Ever since she'd broken up with him, the worst day of his life, he'd kept close tabs on her. He writhed with envy when she started dating other men, and he made sure to scare them away from her, making sure their relationships never lasted longer than a couple of months. He'd even made it to her graduation ceremony and had watched from the back of the hall, incredibly proud of her for finishing medical school. He hated his recent stalkish behaviour, but it was all to make sure she was safe. Gang violence was deadlier and bloodier than ever before as they fought for dominance, and she was in the heart of Birmingham.

Guy shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and breathed out a cloud of the cold morning air, like smoking a cigarette. It didn't feel like summertime, but when did it ever feel hot in England? He strolled through the backstreets of Birmingham, and the low hanging mist dampened his clothing. He shivered. It was too early, but now was his only chance before the mundane lives of the general public woke up and spotted him lurking around where he shouldn't, or god forbid a fangirl recognised him. He wholeheartedly regretted joining his brother's band. If he had known they'd become world famous five years ago, he wouldn't have joined. Now his face was slapped on the front cover of every album. Then there were the music videos, the festivals, and the tv interviews. It was endless. He was everywhere, an easy target for his enemies. So why didn't he quit if he hated it so much? Because his brother loved it, and he couldn't bear to see his brother hurt by his actions. Guy was just glad he'd worn his bandana across his face during his past missions, so he had yet to be targeted. He hated that he missed being a spy. He missed the adrenaline rush the most. As a result, he'd ended up taking drugs to satisfy himself, but the feeling was never the same. He drew his hand out from his pocket and watched his hand shaking. It had been a fortnight since his last fix. The withdrawal systems had been hellish from the start that he'd nearly given in. However, Guy knew he needed the poison out of his body, and the best distraction to stop him from relapsing was doing what he did best: investigating. However, this time, it was on his own terms. Agent Miller had no idea he was here.

Guy rounded the corner onto the main street of terraced housing, and his nose crinkled at the foul stench of a rotting corpse. He passed the snoozing security guard, ducked under the police tape, and entered the white tent. He lifted up the blue plastic sheet covering the dead body, found in the middle of the old cobbled street outside the front entrance of one of Birmingham's biggest tourist traps, the Garrison Pub, otherwise known as the headquarters of the Peaky Blinders. Ever since the prominence of the BBC's hit tv series, the gang had been using their pub as an attraction to draw in eager fans of the tv show, the perfect front to keep the police off their backs, while at the back, the real life Peaky Blinders from the original families got to work. The police couldn't shut them down unless they wanted to lose Birmingham's busiest tourist stop in the city, so the authorities dismissed their behind-the-scenes behaviour for now. That was until a man's body found itself on their doorstep. From the look of his bluish-white skin, shrivelled up like fingers left under water for too long, he'd drowned to death and had been dumped in the canal until he was fished out and left at the door like a delivered parcel. He even had a ribbon wrapped around his head in the form of a neatly tied bow. Guy wondered what the poor bugger did to annoy the London-Irish, or had he found out something he shouldn't have?

Guy pulled a pair of leather gloves on and searched through the man's pockets and felt a sharp object hidden within the lining off his jacket. Guy flicked out his pocket knife and found a key to a locker at grand central. This had to be what the London-Irish killed him for, but they were too idiotic to find it hidden within the lining. 

"You just can't help yourself can you, Agent One?"

Guy quickly hid the key down his sleeve and turned around, facing his ex-boss. Caught red handed, tampering with a crime scene, Guy knew this wasn't going to end well for him. How had he even known he was here? Miller sniffed with a snide smirk and pushed his fallen sunglasses up his rather large nose. It wasn't even sunny, so there was no need for sunglasses. Obnoxious t**t. Miller dusted his feet against the ground as he circled around Guy and placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. 

"You don't look too good." Miller criticised his appearance with an upturned look of disgust. "I could smell your stench from a mile away. When was the last time you had a shower?" 

Guy ground his teeth and bit down on his tongue before he reacted with a sassy comment. Getting a rise out of him was exactly what Miller wanted. Yes, Guy had had it rough over the past couple of years as the fame and fortune got to his head, but he was trying to turn over a new leaf. Miller had no right to ridicule him when Guy was trying to do good for himself.

"At least you're attempting to turn your life around." He pointed at Guy's trembling hands. Embarrassed, Guy gripped his hands behind his back. "But let's face it, the only reason you resorted to drugs in the first place was to compensate for the adrenaline rush you used to have whenever you went out on a mission. Why else would you be here right now when trying to detox? Why don't we stop this silly musician act and rejoin the agency? We can provide you with the help you need to clean up, and you'll be back to the person you once were. The person Cassidy fell in love with. What would she think of you now if she saw you?"

Guy's throat felt sore as he swallowed, and he contained his anger before punching the director of the nation's secret service in the face. Instead, he barged past Miller's shoulder and exited the tent. 

"Nothing to say?" Miller quipped. "You're usually one for sassy comebacks."

"My sassy comebacks are in short supply at the moment. I wouldn't want to waste one on you." 

Miller's mouth clamped shut, and he frowned, creasing the lines on his forehead and making him look a decade older than he was. 

"Nothing to say?" Guy mimicked, then pointed to Miller's forehead. "Those frown lines won't do any good to your ageing youth." 

Miller scoffed but still reached up and attempted to smooth out his wrinkled forehead.

"What's going on that MI6 has to be involved with a petty gang murder?" The site was now surrounded by MI6 agents, having taken over from the police, which meant whatever was going on between the London-Irish and the Peaky Blinders was a risk to national security.

"If you want to know, rejoin the agency, and I would be happy to tell you everything. Like I said, we can provide you with all the help you could ever need."

"I don't need your help." Guy's heart spiked. Now more than ever he was in desperate need of his next fix. He ruffled his hands through his hair. "I'm fine."

"Why don't you think about it?" Miller headed towards a black Land Rover parked at the end of the street. "Oh, and I'm revoking your driving licence until you learn to grow up."

"You can't do that!" Guy exclaimed, outraged that Miller would stoop so low to get him to rejoin the agency. 

"I can, and I did." Miller smirked. "Taking your licence is only the beginning. I can make your life a living hell. Remember that." 

"Arsehole," Guy muttered. How was he supposed to get back to London now? He needed to be at a meeting later this afternoon regarding a new band manager; Cherry Bomb's current manager had quit on them from out of the blue. Guy had a feeling it now had something to do with Miller interfering with his life. 

Guy pulled his hood on and skulked away from the crime scene, just as the agents arrested members of the Peaky Blinders from the Garrison Pub. He looked down at the key in his hand. At least his trip to Birmingham wasn't a waste of time; he was glad for the tip-off from Nikki. Guy pulled his phone out as he wove his way through the backstreets of Birmingham and headed towards Grand Central and rang his brother. He frowned when his phone beeped at him with a text message from the network. 

Your contract has been terminated. 

Guy's face scrunched up. He could punch Miller's teeth in. He shoved his phone into his pocket and made his way to the nearest phone shop that was open at this time in the morning and bought a burner phone. 

"I'm sorry, sir." The assistant at the shop handed his card back over to him. "Your card has been declined." 

Guy's eye twitched, and he curled his fists, digging his nails into his palms. He dismissed the purchase and walked off, phone-less and locked out of his bank accounts.

"You sure do know how to make my life a living hell, Miller." Guy shook his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The city began to wake up with cars lining the streets and morning commuters heading to work. After an hour of walking around, he found a phone booth. With no change, he called the operator and hoped Mikey would accept the charge. 

"What've you done this time?" Mikey accused. 

"I..." Guy didn't know how to explain the situation he'd found himself in and frowned as he came up with the best excuse he could, one that would undoubtedly make him look bad. This was the last thing Guy needed right now. "I was caught driving under the influence and had my licence taken from me. I'm stuck in Birmingham with no ride, and I've lost my phone and wallet."

"Jeez, Guy, how did you end up in that situation?" 

"I caught up with an old friend, and it got out of hand," Guy sighed and hummed a yes every other sentence as his brother had a go at him. Mikey most notably pointed out his recent behaviour and lifestyle choices and how he was making the rest of the band look bad in front of the press.

"You need to sort your s**t out, Guy," Mikey grumbled. "I can't keep saving your ass forever." 

"You're my little brother. You're always going to he there to save my ass." Guy smirked, but he knew he needed to stop using his brother to bail him out of bad situations. "Can you pick me up?" 

"I'm a little busy today sorting out the planning renovations for my house, and Danny will now have to take your place at the meeting with our potential new band manger," Mikey sighed. "I can ask Cassidy. I've been meaning to catch up with her, and she lives in Birmingham now."

"No," Guy cut his brother off. "I don't want her to see me like..." Guy stopped. If he finished that sentence, it would be like admitting defeat. 

"You don't want her to see you like what?" Mikey's voice lowered.

"Don't make me finish that sentence." Guy pressed his head against the window panel and sighed as he watched the city buzz alive. Just the thought of her had his knees wobble like jelly. If she ever saw him in his current state, she would run and never look back, and who would blame her?

"Why not?" Mikey knew full well why. He just wanted Guy to finally admit what he'd become out loud.

Guy took the speaker away from his mouth and gasped a shaky sigh, wiping his moist eyes with the back of his hands. His senses sharpened when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He reached for his gun, hidden within the holster under his jacket.

Across the road from the phone booth stood a man in a pristine work suit, tall, dark haired, a sly smirk across his face, and an ugly red scar down his left cheek. His hands were casually placed in his pockets, and his dark eyes stared Guy down with an amused look, like he knew a joke that Guy didn't. Guy felt a chill run through him. Everything about the man felt off. Mr Scarface nodded his head at Guy. A bus zoomed past, and he was gone, like a whisper in the wind.

"Guy... Guy!" Mikey snapped him back into reality. He was seeing things. Withdrawal systems were a b***h. 

"Mhm... what?"

"I asked, why you can't let Cassidy see you like this?"

Guy stared at the empty road and took his hand away from his gun. "I don't want her to see me looking like a druggie." 

"Maybe seeing her is the kick up the arse you need."

"Mikey, I'm trying." Guy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really am trying to stop." 

"I know you are." Mikey's voice hitched as he contained his emotions. "When was your last hit?"

"A couple of weeks ago." Guy stared at his trembling hands. He'd decided to quit the day he went to Cassidy's graduation. "I can't sleep without getting vivid dreams, I can't eat, I'm sick all the time, and I can't stop shaking. I don't want her to see me, Mikey. Not at my worst." 

"As long as you're honest with her, she would never judge you. Knowing her, she won't leave your side until she knows you're your normal self again." Mikey sighed. "I don't think you realise how special you are to her. You mean the world to her."

That made him feel even worse for ending up in his current state, but Mikey was right. Seeing Cassidy was what he needed to turn his life around. "Okay. Call her and tell her to meet me at..." Guy looked across the street. "At Elle's Café in an hour or two." 

"I'll sort it out, and don't forget we have the Darlington Ball on Friday," Mikey reminded.

Guy's face scrunched up. He'd completely forgotten about the ball on Friday. "Thanks, Mikey."

Guy slammed the phone down and sighed, knocking his head against the window, multiple times, until people in the street stopped and stared. Couldn't they mind their own f*****g business when he was having a mental breakdown? With an hour until he would meet up with Cassidy, he made his way to Grand Central and tried to figure out what was inside the locker the Peaky Blinder had lost his life trying to protect.

He sat himself down on the bench in the station, not too far from the lockers, and pretended to play on his phone, when really he was keeping an eye out for anyone who could have followed him from the crime scene. Knowing Miller, he would have Nikki tracking his every move. He'd already spotted three cameras pointed in his direction, but it wasn't Miller he was bothered by. As much as he hated his ex-boss, it gave him a sense of security that someone was out watching his back. It was the London-Irish he had to keep an eye out for and the Mr Scarface he may or may not have seen. He quickly gazed around the room, and when he couldn't spot any noticeable assailants watching him, he strolled towards the locker and opened it.

A Teddy Bear. 

Guy frowned. The Peaky Blinder was murdered over a teddy bear. What had his life come to, sneaking around and getting in Miller's bad books over a f*****g teddy bear? Guy stroked the fluffy, honey coated toy, fashioned with a big red bow. It was medium sized and heavier than he had expected as he shoved it into his backpack. He smirked when he found a wad of £50 notes at the back and stuffed them into his pocket. That seemed more like Peaky Blinder business. Having £50 notes was sketchy and rare to come by. Not many shops accepted them without gaining an eyebrow rise. He locked up and walked out of the station and made his way to the café. The sun broke through the clouds, and he decided to sit outside and watch the world turn. He ordered an espresso and waited, and as expected, he received an eyebrow raise when he paid for it with a £50 note, and the barista had to speak with her supervisor to ask if it was legal tender. His foot tapped at a million miles per hour, and he stroked his hand through his hair, nervous to meet with Cassidy again as he flung back his espresso. The last time he spoke with her face to face was five years ago, when he was recovering from a shot gun wound, and she'd broken up with him. He couldn't blame her for breaking up with him. He had lied to her too many times he'd lost count. No wonder she thought the worst and left. 

He had only been twenty-two years old when that happened, and she had been twenty. Gosh, he was still a child back then. Nothing had changed then. Cassidy seemed to have grown up and was now a junior doctor. She was doing well for herself. He was happy for her. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, meeting up with her. He stood up, and his chair scraped behind him. Guy stumbled around and walked straight into a woman and grabbed her arms before she tripped over. 

"Sorry..." Guy stopped and stared, and his heart melted, falling in love with her all over again as he lost himself within her dark brown eyes. "Cass..."