Those of you not interested in Fan Fiction might want to skip this post. 

Although I will also clarify that this is NOT fiction about an ACTOR -- but a character.   I am not down with writing stories - in particular romances/sexually explicit fiction - about an actual, living person.

A tad disrespectful in my humble opinion.   My interests, from an artist/writers perspective, always focuses on the story foremost, and the characters second.   I could not care less about the personal lives of actors or celebrities.   It's none of my business.   I enjoy watching an artist bring a character to life onscreen.   I respect the talent and hard work that goes into that creative endeavour.  Period.

So having clarified that, I thought I would share the first couple chapters of the Peaky Blinders Fan Fiction I wrote.  You do not necessarily have to be a fan of the show, or watch it because we actually do not have much information regarding this particular character.    Alfie Solomons, a Jewish gangster in 1920s London, England and played by Tom Hardy, only pops in for a few guest appearances.
And completely steals every single scene.    Not just because Hardy is such an incredible actor, but because the character is just that interesting.

They've left us wanting more about Alfie Solomons, and quite simply:  I filled in the gaps with my own imaginative musings.

*On a side note, I was first drawn to the show because it stars Cillian Murphy in the lead role of Thomas Shelby, and I am a big fan of his work also.   We didn't see Mr Hardy appear until the second season.*

A little background info on Alfie Solomons as per his wiki character description:
Violent and unpredictable, but intelligent and calculating, he is a master negotiator who uses violent outbursts and confusing language to intimidate and dominate everyone around him.
Aside from being a veteran of World War One, little else is known about his background but for the fact that his mother was a Jew who fled persecution in Russia. He understands Russian well. Currently, he 'uses' a bakery as a cover for his distillery.

Violent.  Unpredictable.  Possibly quite unhinged.
Oh yeah, that sounds like a good premise for a romance, right?
Well, you never know what can happen to a man when he meets the right woman.   I thought it would be interesting to explore how a certain type of woman might soften the heart of one Alfie Solomons.

Three things to take notice of in these two gif/images I've included:

---- holy smoke that intent gaze
----  the movement of his hands
----- the touching of his beard

When writing about an already existing fictional character; authenticity is Everything!

Oh and WARNING:  Alfie swears.  A lot.
I tried to tone it down, but you know... authenticity.

It's also going to get very heated eventually if you read the entire story.  So if you're squeamish about reading certain words that are described as "throbbing" -- this might not be the story for you.   But, it's no 50 Shades either, so head any warnings and read at own risk.

Okay, so grab a coffee now... here we go. 

Part One - A First Meeting

The girl appeared young. 
With her heart shaped face of delicate features and a petite frame that belied her actual twenty and four years.   She knew it often gave her advantage over those who would easily dismiss her.    She certainly appeared much too young and fair of face to be paraded about the yards, where men looked for any excuse to tarry from their work.   Her slight frame had just the right amount of curve to grant sufficient reason for the workers to pause in their duties.   Her long red curls windblown and catching the late afternoon sun, as though fire followed in her wake.   Several indecent proposals echoed behind them as they approached the factory building.

Her booted heels echoed upon the wharf, as she was intently lead towards the boss’s office; her elbow in a firm grip.   Her chin thrust defiantly forward, though her eyelashes often dipped to rest upon freckled cheeks as she hid her face from the workers.   She chewed her lip worriedly, a sight that only caused several men to stare more ardently.   It was tempting to hunch her shoulders tight, folding into herself to escape their lengthy perusal.   But through sheer will she held her back straight and made her steps sure.  Other whispers reached her ears - Surely this tiny slip of a girl would be no match for their menacing boss, eh?  The men quickly cast lots as to how long before she would emerge with swifter steps and tear streaked cheeks. 

Shanna was led inside the factory where she hoped there might be some relief from the stench of the ferry docks.   Was it the men, or the river that so offended the nose?   She couldn’t tell.  But one quick gulp of air proved the inside not much better.   The stench of rum assailed her senses and she momentarily faltered.  The grip on her elbow tightened - but she caught the young mans’ brief look of concern as it flashed across his brow.  An ally perhaps?  Her body involuntarily shivered as she remembered where she was being lead.  Or rather to who.  Once again she faltered, and her escort actually paused briefly to allow her to regain her steps.  Ollie’s brows knitted with concern, as his gaze sought and held hers.   She responded with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders, but her pace progressed more steadily towards the closed door at the end of the hall.  She inhaled deeply and set her resolve.

His raised voice reached their ears before their steps reached his closed door.  Someone was being reminded of The Rules.   Shanna’s face paled, while even Ollie momentarily was set back on his heels.  She stole a glance - he could not be much older than she.  Could she count on him if the man’s temper escalated too great?  How did one so young get into such a business?    How did you get into yours?  Shanna shrugged a reply to herself, and then to the young man as he raised a questioning brow in her direction.

“Come on then”  Ollie tugged her elbow forward.  “Best not to keep him waiting any longer.  He’s already of foul temper.” 

Shanna paled further, her eyes suddenly widening in fear, as she allowed herself to be pulled through the door… and into the domain of one very large, angry man.

He sat behind a huge desk, looking impossibly huge himself.  His face still red from the most recent fit of temper.  If her youth - or beauty - had any affect upon the man, he held it close.   One large hand absently stroking his beard, while his gaze pierced her very core.  Shanna steeled her nerves, but wondered how long she could maintain a grip on her senses beneath that unnerving stare.  As she was drawn forward, his eyes never left her.   His fingers stroking, while the other hand held a lit cigar, resting upon the desk.  She was lead to a chair in front of the large desk, while he gestured with the cigar hand to sit.   Shanna obeyed and folded her hands primly in her lap.  Her eyes downcast so that her thick fringed dark lashes fluttered upon her pale cheeks.  She held her breath and waited.  The cigar smoke circled about them and she fought the urge to cough.  A tactic no doubt.  Oye he was a shrewd one for sure.  Fingering the chain about her neck nervously, she otherwise remained still as stone.  The young man addressed his employer, and was met with a stern “Thank you Ollie, now fuck off.  Get out!

Shanna jolted in her chair, but Ollie, clearly accustomed to such abuse simply turned and made his leave.  A mumbled offer of tea thrown over his shoulder as he exited and closed the door.   Shanna had turned in her seat to watch him.  How could her leave her alone with this man?!   Had he no heart?  No concern for her welfare at all?

Can you not hear child, eh - I said what is yer name?!

Shanna jumped once more as the command was bellowed from behind her.  With a resigned sigh she slowly turned back towards the large man, necklace entwined between her slim fingers, while she pulled it across her mouth.   Alone now and at his mercy.  Releasing her long held breath, Shanna leaned back in her chair, put one booted shoe upon his desk, and raising violet snapping eyes  that glared fire in his direction…

Well then sir, who the fuck are ya?

Alfie Solomon’s brow furrowed deeply, while his lit cigar dropped into his lap.  He fared much worse than the girl in suppressing his choking cough.  Shanna met his gaze and refused to budge boot or resolve, as a slow smirk spread across her young, innocent face.   The necklace, with it’s single pearl drop still draped across her half open mouth. 
For the first time in ages, the most notorious negotiator in Camden Town, was at a loss for words, and despite reasons why he had the young woman literally dragged here, could only think of a single question.

Were those pouty lips of hers by nature… or by willful design?

Part Two - Negotiations Get Tense

Shanna kept an iron clasp on her nerves, not allowing her gaze to drop.  One delicate eyebrow raised while she waited for Alfie’s coughing to subside.   He opened the drawer to his right and she knew a moment of fear.  Everyone knew what was in Alfie Solomon’s drawer.   But for now, it was the bottle of whiskey that he withdrew and slowly poured himself a glass, his shrewd eyes casting glances from the crystal glass to the young girls face.   The other hand stroked his beard several times as he calmly raised the glass to his lips and took a gulp that might have choked a lesser man.  He was stalling.  Shanna smiled inwardly, but kept her outer countenance calm and patient. 

Alfie’s eyes now sought out every aspect of her person.  From the arched brow, to the still parted lips, the cloud of red curls that encircled her small frame, the necklace her slim fingers still toyed with….
Shanna saw his eyes suddenly widen while his own brow shot upward, his breathing hitched and the glass banged down upon the table.   Alfie’s gaze dipped down to her slightly heaving chest, where the necklace she had allowed to drop now lay.   It’s tiny pearl hidden in the deep valley of her breasts.  She was certain the most feared man in Camden Town leaned slightly forward, and couldn’t resist another smirk as she continued to wait - waiting for his gaze to return to hers.

The hand that was stroking his beard now hung in the air by his face, it’s fingers slowly rubbing back and forth, while his gaze slowly traveled back to the violet eyes.  He noticed the curve and twitch of her mouth.  Clever girl.  What was she on about?

"Alright, let’s not play games miss, we both know, that ya know, exactly who I am.  And I didn’t have ya brought here to waste my time with silly girlish parlour tricks, eh?   Yer Shanna, yeah?  The girl from the club in the square - that’s ya, innit?"  He pointed a finger in her direction.

Shanna paused in her response, wondering how on earth she could have come to the attention of one Jewish gang leader named Alfie Solomons.   She wasn’t about to let him know so easily though.

"Mr. Slomons…"

"Solomons," Aflie grunted.

"Whatever."  She waved delicate fingers through the air as if his feared name was of no consequence to her.  "I am Shanna and yer correct, I work at the club. Thus I fail to see how yer…. ah.. bakery… and my business should have anything to do with one another."

Alfie leaned back in his chair as his gaze gave a long thorough examination of her winsome form.  Fingers rubbing back and forth in the air, the other hand circling the rim of the whiskey glass.

"Yer one of those dancers, yeah?   With the little panties and sequined tops getting the man all panting in their chairs, right?  That’s what ya do."   Alfie needed to set this little whip back on her heels smartly.   By the flush that crept upon her cheeks, he was sure the advantage would soon be his once more.   Shanna raised her chin and glared her reply.   Smug bastard.  As if his own arse had not warmed the seats of such a chair a time or two.

"Yes. I dance.  Again Mr Slomins..."

"Whichever."   Weary sigh drops from her lips, while her small tongue darts out to moisten the fullness on the bottom… she knows his eyes follow.   " Again, I fail to see a connection between us.  More so, why the size of my panties should be of any concern, or interest (a raised brow) to ya?"

His eyes travel from her wet lips to the spread of her skirts - as her one booted foot still rests casually upon his desk.  The suggestion is not lost on a worldly man such as Alfie Solomons, but unknown to many, a gentleman’s creed existed beneath the rough exterior.  Still, he would test the resolve of this young thing.   He told himself her uncommon beauty was of little consequence.

"Listen sweetie… I appreciate the attention, really - ‘tis flattering, but this is business.  That’s why I have the whiskey and not the rum."   His hand reached out and tipped the bottle in her direction.   Then Alfie got up from his seat and slowly walked around his large desk and sat on the edge, planting his body squarely between her legs.  His hip pressed against her raised leg, and his presence loomed large above the slender girl.  Shanna involuntary slid backwards further into the chair.   He gently picked up the leg resting upon his desk, his grip tight but careful not to harm the lass, while he set it back upon the floor.  Sure to rub the inside of her leg along his own outer thigh…  "but tell me the truth love, is dancing all you do?"

Alfie was not enough of a gentleman to avoid feeling a smug sense of satisfaction at her sharp gasp of indignation.

"Now you listen here Mr Solomons…"

"Well done love.  Fast learner ain’t ya?"  Alfie raised his hands in a slow clap.

Shanna gritted her teeth and moved to lean forward, but she was immediately faced with the squared hips of one Alfie Solomons who refused to give up his perch on the edge of the desk - still between her legs.   Not to mention, a certain part directly in her face.   As her hands gripped her knees tightly she lifted her face to find Alfie with arms folded across his stalwart chest… and a smug smile on his face.   Did the bastards eye actually just twitch?!
Oh two could play this game.   Besides, she couldn’t back down now and risk losing all she gained.  Had she gained?

"Mr Solomons," she began sweetly, "we both know that if I did do more than just dance, that it would be I who would be sitting on your desk... Shanna slowly moved her hands down her legs until the tips of her fingers barely brushed Alfie’s knees where they pressed upon her own, with my hands in your trousers and this meeting would have been over in five minutes, and I would have left you with a smile on your face and your questions all but forgotten."
Much to Ollie’s dismay, he had chosen this exact moment to return with tea service.   He was certain he had never seen his boss’s brow so deeply furrowed.  Was that defeat etched upon his face?!   Most importantly: would the young girl survive the consequences?

Part Three - The Contract

Ollie stood uncertainly beside the desk as his employer glared down at the women whose hands rested upon his knees.  The girl returned his furious glare with a heat of her own, refusing to give quarter.  The tension in the room was thicker than the fog that lay over the town most days.

"Set the tea down on the desk Ollie.  And get the fuck out."

Ollie took one last hesitant look at the woman, but her eyes still held Alfie’s, and then he hurriedly took his leave once more.   He silently said a prayer for the foolish girl.  Or maybe he should have said one for his employer, for he’d never witnessed him in such a situation before.

Alfie looked deep into Shanna’s eyes, taking note of her shallow breath and the slight shaking of the hands that grazed his knees.  Oye, she was of stern resolve, he would give her that.   But what was her game?  Surely she expected her bluff to be called.  He leaned down over her, his hands gripping the arms of her chair, while his face stopped mere inches from her own.

"Come on now love, be a good girl.   You’re not too old that I can’t take ya over my knee and be done with this charade." 

The delicate eyebrow arched, while a slow smile spread across her face, and a look of feigned wonder rested in her eyes.

"I’m sorry Mr Solomons, but I’m a little unclear… was that a threat.. or a proposition?"  

Shanna once more raised her boot to rest upon the desk, so that one side of him was encircled within a slender thigh.  Alfie’s face contorted in a mix of shock, rage, and most likely a smidgen of lust that even he was unlikely to admit.   Good God, the girl had the face of an angel but her mouth seemed designed for sin.

"I don’t mess with whores."  He spat the words in her beautiful face.

Shanna came out of her chair in a flash, her arm raised to strike, but Alfie was no untried schoolboy in his first tangle, and easily caught her arm in a vise-like grip.  He crushed the girl to his chest while his raged unleashed.

"Enough!"  He gave Shanna one firm shake that made both curls and bosom bounce - a sight not lost on him even in a fit of temper.   Afraid of losing ground once more, with his other hand he roughly grasped her chin, forcing her gaze upwards to meet his own.  "Hit a nerve did I lass?"   He mimicked the thick Scottish brogue that in her agitated state she could no longer hidePressed so closely, he’d also noticed the small scattering of freckles on her nose.  His voice thundered in her ears, "Do ya want to see what baiting a man can lead to?"

Shanna couldn’t help the tremble in her lower lip, and knew both panic and self loathing.   She had crossed the line.  But dammit how dare he!

"I am no whore," she barely whispered through the strong grip on her chin.  Her eyes threatened to moisten, held so tight as she was and feeling the heat and anger radiating off the man she had pushed to his edge.

Alfie’s brow knitted at the sudden softening.  A trick?  Aye, she no doubt had a bag full of them.  But Shanna now stood still and quiet in his locked hold, her eyes downcast and her small body trembling against his stronger frame.   Along with the freckles, he could clearly see the faint outline of a bruise upon her left cheek.   Had Shanna been looking, she would have noted that his eyes darkened in anger at seeing the evidence of abuse upon her.   He couldn’t resist the temptation to trail his fingers across the softness of her skin where the purple mark lay.  Shanna flinched at his touch.   For once in the presence of a lady, Alfie Solomons swore softly under his breath.

"No.  I reckon you ain’t.  Most whores don’t flinch when a man touches them."  His voice softened.  "So who left his mark upon yer cheek Shanna?"

The softening of his temper and new gentleness towards her was the final blow.  Her will gone, Shanna slumped in his hold and her eyes refused to meet his.   Aflie noted the change and marveled at the tenacity of this small slip of a girl.  It stirred something unfamiliar within him.  This need to protect her that suddenly arose.

"Shanna?  Look at me!   Who hurt ya?"  Alfie, gently this time, forced her gaze to his.

"I highly doubt Mr Solomons that you had me dragged all the way here, just to find who hurt little ole me.  A non Jewish girl."   She wiggled uncomfortably still locked in his grip, but Alfie held her close.  He was too close…

"No that’s not why I summoned ya, but since three Jewish girls are missing. Girls that were last seen entering yer club Shanna, and ya sport a bruise on yer cheek…I do rather think our business tis most connected.  So I ask ya again - who hurt ya?"

Shanna remained still in his hold.  Her mind trying to connect the pieces.  Three Jewish girls? Missing?  No, it couldn’t be…

Shanna wiggled once more.  "Please - let me go.  I’ll tell ya what I know. I swear Alfie, I dinna know they were missing."   She raised pleading eyes to his.

Alfie released his hold and sat once more on the edge of the desk, while he gently lead Shanna back into her seat.  He kept one small hand within his own, his fingers absently rubbing her smaller ones.   A questioning look in her direction.

Shanna took a deep breath.  "They came to the club.  Said they were looking for work.   I thought it was odd - they had no dance experience.   So I turned them away.  I swear Alfie - they left our club willingly and unharmed.  I assumed they would just continue their search."

His arms folded across his chest, he leaned slightly forward.  Careful, don’t want to frighten her now that he finally got her talking.

"And you didn’t think it odd?  Three nice Jewish girls looking for work in that part of the city?  When they have comfortable homes at their disposal?"  He shook his head at her naivety. 

Shanna shook her head in her defense.   "Their personal affairs is none of my business Alfie.  Unlike others, I don’t judge them for their circumstances - whatever they might be.  I simply couldn’t offer them work.  So they left."

Alfie softened his voice lower.  "And yer bruise?"
Shanna lowered her gaze once more.  "A man at the club."  She raised her eyes and fixed Alfie with a pointed look.  "Who also didn’t believe I was not for sale.   He didn’t like hearing no either."

Alfie felt a flinching moment of his own.  Suitably chastised, he dipped his head briefly and smiled gently.
"Shanna, I do humbly ask yer pardon.  But ya cannot expect to bluff and not have it called out."   Shanna shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes in reply. 

"So that’s it, innit?"  Alfie stood up, clapped his hands  and returned to his side of the desk.  Sitting down in his chair, he leaned forward, elbows on desk and rested his chin in steepled fingers.   "I need to find my girls, and ya need protection.  Clearly.   We have a deal then, yeah?"
Shanna looked at him like he lost his mind.   "Are ya mad?  I canna afford yer protection."
Alfie stroked his beard once more, than banged the desk twice.  "I’ll give ya four of my men, every night.  One outside, two in the club, one by the dressing room… ya have a dressing room, right - yeah?"   Shanna nodded.   "Right then, waving his hands about in front of him, he dropped the catch…  and 25% of yer profits, yeah?"

Shanna couldn’t stop the loud snort that escaped her.  "Oh good lord, ya are mad.  25%?   Well that does make me yer whore almost, innit?" She mimicked his cockney accent, and shook her head in disbelief of his terms.
"15% Mr Solomons, and I’ll help you find your girls.  Discreetly."
"Fuck off.  What am I, a charity for wayward girls?"  Alfie leaned back in his chair.  Once more in his best element, his chest puffed out and his tone menacing again.   "Categorically. No. 20% and yes, discretion is paramount to this little contract."

Shanna couldn’t help the feeling of gratitude that overwhelmed her.  The truth was simple, she needed his protection.  And, she truly felt concern over the missing girls.  A thing like that was not only bad for her as a woman, but also for her business.    But she couldn’t quite give Alfie the satisfaction - just yet.   She loosed a weary sigh.  Toyed with the necklace once more.  Alfie simply sat, his hands spread out wide between them as though the conclusion was inevitable.

"Well, it seems you’ve got me then Mr Solomons.  20% it is then and whatever assistance I can offer ya."   She paused momentarily.   "We did fire our man at the door a few months back, who was not pleased with his dismissal at all.   You might want to start there." 

Alfie nodded his thanks, and then leaning forward spit into his hand and extended it to her.
Horrified Shanna could only stare at him.

"What the hell?  What am I to do with that?!"

Alfie chuckled deep in his chest.   "We spit and shake to seal the deal Shanna."
"Really?  I’m … a.. girl.  That’s disgusting." 

But Alfie didn’t budge and merely sat waiting with his hand still extended.

Shanna rolled her eyes once more, and with great hesitation spit into her palm and extended to Alfie’s.   She shuddered at the thought of touching the man’s spit, let alone it mingling with her own.   But when their palms met and Alfie’s fingers tightened about her own, a jolt raced up her arm that caused her eyes to raise suddenly to his.  She met Alfie’s equally perplexed gaze. 

Again Ollie’s timing proved perfect.   "Ah, a deal reached I see. Good. Shall I draw up a contract then sir?"

Ollie glanced at his employer and the young woman who both sat motionless with hands clasped and eyes locked.  The tension between them fair made the air crackle.

"Sir?"  No response.
Alfie’s eyes remained fixed on the girl and Ollie noticed that his fingers rubbed her own in that absent minded way of his when he was trying to find a solution to a problem. 
"Mr Solomons - should I draw up some contracts?"

It was the girl who broke first.  Quickly withdrawing her hand and standing from her chair.  
"Yes Ollie.  Mr Solomons can tell ya the terms.  I trust he will be thorough."  She fixed him a pointed look… "and fair.   Good day gentlemen."  

With a nod and grateful smile to Ollie and last glance at Alfie, she turned upon her heels and made straight for the office door.    Alfie’s gaze never wavered from her departing form, even as the door slammed closed.

"So ya won in the end sir?  Didn’t doubt ya for a second sir."   Ollie patted Alfie on the shoulder, but was met with a gruff grunt and blank stare.

"No Ollie. I think I actually lost.  Soundly."    A rueful smile broke his visage as he leaned back and merely shrugged his shoulders in explanation.   He wasn't familiar at all with this feeling of uncertainty that coiled within his gut.  She's just a girl; although the speed of her retorts against his own suggest an intelligence beyond her years.  His fingers once again stroked through his beard as his mind still pondered the woman and the effect she had upon him.   Ollie's voice intruded his musings.

"But she agreed to terms?  So… yer happy?  But ya lost… so..  Ollie’s head nodded back and forth in confusion… why are ya smiling then?"

Alfie slapped his desk, tossed back the remains of his whiskey and slapping Ollie on the back exclaimed, “because it was the most fun at losing I’ve ever had my dear boy.”  He handed Ollie papers and a pen, and motioned towards the now empty chair.   Ollie sat down to write down the contract terms.

Shaking his head slowly, "I hope she is worth it Mr Solomons."

Alfie merely smiled and leaning back in his chair, spread his hands wide and replied,  " Ollie, where is yer faith?  I always know the value of every gem I inspect.  But where is the fun in a jewel so easily claimed, yeah?"  He clapped his hands together, a shit eating grin splitting his face.

Ollie only nodded in reply.  Oh, he had faith, but also a feeling of his own.  Namely that his usually menacing employer had no true concept of just how deep he was about to fall.
Or, at what price this fair, red headed piece would cost one Alfie Solomons.

~ continue reading additional chapters on my Tumblr~ 

Perhaps I'll continue the story here, but for now, this was really simply intended to finish out the Writing Month of November by providing evidence of actual writing. 

Now, I'd like to once again return my focus to that Sunset Beach where I left one searching soul and one peaceful soul at the mercy of a young boy, and in the dark.