Her nails looked perfect, the harlot red polish gleaming as her fingertips drummed over the table’s surface repeatedly. Her black hair was curled and framing her sharp angular face before falling to just before her shoulder tops. Gray blue eyes were made up and her lipstick matched the color of her nails to the very shade.

Harlot red. Of course that wasn’t what it was called, it was something like Ruby Red, or Vivacious Red, or Candy Apple Red… But that’s not what Joseph called it and so it was Harlot Red. This particular shade could and had brought many an argument around the Adler family table.

Walter being the youngest and closest to Chasity’s age did not like his sister going out dressed as she did, which on any other woman would be consider fashionable and chic but on Chasity was vulgar, but certainly was able to understand that she was young and didn’t want to look doubty. Henry couldn’t understand when such short skirts had come into fashion (some of the slits even going up to thigh height) and Joseph simply forbade it.

Inevitably an argument would break out on how Chasity should look and act and present herself, for they were business men and the Adler’s couldn’t afford to have their sister going around being mistaken for a whore. The fine balancing act would be performed between brotherly love, harassment, bullying and their own sense of self preservation.

If they insisted Chasity change then they would ensure another 40 to 50 minutes of waiting for her before leaving the house. If she compromised and dawned a shawl or coat it was a sure bet that it would be removed during some part of the evening so really why even bother? If they let it be they had to endure the few looks that were still cast Chasity’s way, for she was attractive no matter the garb.

Luckily today it seemed she would be getting off Scott free, as they were arguing about something else. Someone was selling merchandise in their district. Chasity wondered if they’d make it to their dinner reservations at The Grosvenor House Hotel and sighed inwardly as she heard one of her brothers slam something down loudly. Probably Henry. He had the hottest head of the lot. He was also the first to laugh.

There was some quieted murmuring before she heard the scrape of chairs and stood quickly as they entered the kitchen where she had been waiting. The Adler Brothers tried their best to not discuss business in front of Chasity, though that rule was bent regularly. However tonight in their fine suits and her cocktail dress they had tried to keep things Civil.

“Ready are we?” She asked, running a hand down the front of her gown before reaching for her shawl. Walter was holding it out for her and Chasity gratefully shrugged into it. “Yes.” Was the gruff reply of Henry, whose face was still red.

“Lovely…” The brunette smiled up at her brothers, all tall men (and she a tall woman, standing at 5’8” without heels on) before glancing at the door. Joseph huffed and remembered himself, stepping to fish the caddy’s keys out of his pocket as he opened the back door. Trotting down the steps he opened the door and let Walter slide into the back along with Henry before coming around to open the passenger door for Chasity.

The engine purred as they were on their way. She glanced in the mirror and adjusted one of her diamond earrings before peering back at Henry and Walter in the back. Henry was fuming and Walter was little better off.

The silence grew in the car before Henry snapped. “If Glasser is there tonight I don’t care that the band is debuting. I’ll break his fu—“ “Watch your mouth Henry.” Joseph interrupted, shooting his younger brother a warning look in the mirror. Chasity looked away. It was best not to speak when her brothers were in these moods.

They took their business very seriously, and that included handling the threats and poachers seriously. She knew they all carried pistols at all times and hoped for this Glasser’s sake he wasn’t at the dinner. The vein in Henry’s forehead spoke of trouble.

Finally arriving at The Grosvenor House Hotel Chasity was helped out of the caddy by a valet who promptly dropped her hand the moment Joseph stepped around, straightening his coat and perhaps flashing the man a warning look.

Honestly…how did they think any harm could come to her when she was forever surrounded by her large older brothers, or some of their business associates. Never was Chasity alone, unprotected. She understood why… Businessmen made enemies, enemies who might try to use Chasity as leverage against the Adler’s… Still. Her life was not her own.

This thought was replaced quickly as Walter offered her his arm. Smiling she took it, at least tonight was sure to be a fun event. Music, dinner, dancing. What could go wrong?

The Music was thrumming out of the ball room of the Hotel, the beat catchy enough that even Joseph and Henry’s feet were tapping out a beat as they settled in their usual table. Chasity smiled and looked over to Walter, who would occasionally deem himself capable of dancing. He shrugged, leaning in to murmur “Need a few drinks before you’ll get my ass back on that dance floor.”

Chasity arched her brows slightly and nodded, she knew it to be true. She eased off her shawl (much to her brother’s displeasure) ( media.colettehq.com/2011/04/rose-1953-.. in dark blue fading to light) and stood, leaving the table behind and heading over to the bar. She felt their gaze on her until she was safely at the bar top . Of course they had arrived late so the music had already started and many were out on the dance floor rather than eating, since those guests had been in the Hotel long enough to have ordered and the likes.

Sliding her hand over the smooth bar top those Harlot Red nails glimmered attractively. Waiting to catch the bar tenders eye Chasity looked around, spying many people who ran in the same social circles as she and her brother. Smiling she waved politely to a few before turning back to her task.

“Three Whiskey’s and one Gimlet … Could you deliver the Whiskey’s to table 14 please?” Her gimlet was produced and Chasity plucked it up carefully trying a sip. It was good.

Grinning she turned to examine the others at the bar side, deciding it was best to let Henry, Walter and Joseph have some time with their drinks before she returned. Most were just people bringing orders that they couldn’t wait for their waiters to take, like herself, but a few were socially visiting.

The smoke from a lit cigar trailing up away from a man’s hand resting on the shiny wooden bar top caught her attention. With a quick glance to The Adler’s Chasity was fairly certain they were deep in conversation (by Henry’s brow more like an argument) and their drinks. She was safe to approach.

“Do you think I might barrow a light then?” She asked the man, who turned to look at her before replying.

"Good God, Berg, have these people not heard about austerity?" Isidor Levin commented to his bodyguard as the two men walked into the Great Room of the Grosvenor House Hotel. "We only just stopped rationing meat, but if this lot keeps carrying on like this we'll be right back to eating Woolton pie again!"

Isaac Berg merely grunted. The younger, bigger man was not exactly a stimulating conversationalist- his cold demeanor and hulking size had earned him the nickname "Iceberg". Then again, Levin did not employ Berg to be scintillating. Berg's continued employment had more to do with his service in the 1st Commonwealth Division in Korea, not to mention the Enfield revolver concealed beneath his roomy dinner jacket.

Iceberg obediently trundled along behind his boss as the older but vigorous man made his way over to the bar. Rather than wave or call out to the besieged servers, Levin instead waited patiently and humbly for the red-vested barman to make his own way to Levin.

"And what is sir's pleasure?" the barman asked.

"Pimm's No. 1. Easy on the fruit, and add a splash of Gordon's to keep it from being too anemic." Levin looked back over his shoulder at Berg, keeping a watchful eye out over the crowded ballroom. "Berg?"

"Seltzer water, please," the big man said, stolid as ever.

Levin sighed as the barman scurried off. "You're a young lad, Berg. It'd not be wrong for you to enjoy yourself once in a while. Take it from an expert, there'll be plenty of time for fretting and fussing later in life."

Berg merely grunted.

The barman returned with Levin's cocktail and Berg's drink in short order. Levin smiled and slipped a fiver across the bar at the man. "Keep the change. There's something you can do for me, though. Anyone comes about asking after me, be a good chap and let a fellow know straightaway. Can you do that?" The barman enthusiastically nodded assent. "Good man."

It never hurt to know what was going on around you.

With that in mind, Levin took an appreciative sip of his Pimm's and carefully scanned the room, on the lookout for any faces he might know. Rumor was there might be a few other people in attendance here who traded in his peculiar field.

Jig lit, Chasity inhaled deeply and let out the puff of smoke, all the while drumming her fingertips against the glass. The music was good and her brothers were not likely to dance with her, maybe Walter after a few drinks…

Turning her head to look about the room she spotted an older gentleman at the bar she knew. Isidor Levin and the Adler’s had some business arrangement, it was why she had such beautiful jewelry. Chasity wasn’t really sure what that arrangement might entail but Mr. Levin had always been kind to her.

Chasity glanced over her shoulder one last time to confirm her brothers were busy with their drinks before easing along the bar to Mr. Levin and his big friend.

“Mr. Levin!” She smiled, glancing up at his big friend and then back down to the older man. “I didn’t know you liked Jazz Music. How lovely to see you!”

Putting her drink down on the bar top Chasity offered a hand in greeting, clasping his warmly and giving it an extra squeeze. Once the greeting was done she pushed a lock of her curled brown hair away from her ear to show a diamond stud sitting there, shimmering beautifully. Of course it was his diamond.

The Adler sister picked up her gimlet and had another sip, placing it back down she noticed Mr. Levin’s own cocktail. It had fruit in it! Her brothers would never drink anything with something more than a lime wedge or a sprig of mint, and really that was pushing it. “Mr. Levin, what a pretty drink you have. Is that a Primms?” She had never had one before. The cigarette came back up to her mouth with a delicate hand for another puff when she saw his eyes trailing the smoke.

A small blush came to Chasity’s high cheek bones and she shook her head idly. “I know, not much of a habit for a young lady like me…” She waved the hand grasping the jig frivolously. There was no excuse. Especially since her brothers didn’t really permit her to smoke. With a small sigh she changed the subject, afraid Mr. Levin would side with her brothers that this was not an acceptable past time for Chasity to practice.

“Are you here for the dancing then, Mr. Levin?”

"Chasity! What a pleasant surprise seeing you here!" Levin greeted the young woman with a warm smile. As much as he liked all the Adler boys, he found them to be a prudish lot, a little out of place in the modern era. Thus it gave him some pleasure to see Chasity dressed in modern fashion and smoking a cigarette- were it up to those boys, she'd be wearing a corset and hoop skirt and would probably swoon from all this excitement. "This here is a Pimm's Cup, lassie. A fairly weak drink, true, but it does one good to stay sharp sometimes."

He waved off her apology for the cigarette, then quickly looked to see if her brothers were watching. Satisfied that they were not, he extracted his own gunmetal cigarette case and extracted three of his own gaspers. "Here, try a few of mine. I get this blend made specially, it's a mix of Virginia and Turkish tobacco. If you like them, I can give you the name of my tobacconist." He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.

"In answer to your question, Miss Adler, I'm really not much of a dancer. I've no sense of rhythm. No, I just made a few donations to some charity or other, and they gave me a ticket to this soiree out of thanks. It'd be poor form not to show up! No, lassie, were I here for my own amusement I'd have picked someone other than the most boring man in Britain as my plus one.," he said with a wave to Iceberg.

Levin stopped for a moment, considering. Might as well let the young things have a little fun. "Berg, give me your dance card. I want you to show this lady a nice, proper time. That's an order," he said, leaning back.

Berg handed it over without a word. Leaning back forwards, he grinned impishly as he pushed it over to Chasity. "My young friend Mr. Isaac Berg is a little shy, but he requests the honor of a dance, Miss Adler."

"Cunts," said Tom.
Ashley jumped in his seat, startled by Tom suddenly breaking the silence. "What's that, gaffer?"
Tom gestured to The Grosvenor House Hotel with his thin cigar. Vanilla scented, imported, pompous. One of the few extravagant things Tom allowed himself. That, and the Mercury Monterey they sat in.
Ashley looked at the hotel, back to Tom, the hotel, and Tom again. "What, them?"
Tom nodded slowly and suddenly changed to shake his head. He took a drag from the cigar and said, "Fuckin' Adlers, and the kykes, and the Lords and Barons, and the whole fuckin' lot of 'em."
Ashley shrugged his shoulders. He never had any personal prejudices against the Adlers - or any of the Hyde Park gang, really - and especially not the Jews, being that his father was a Jewish butcher in Bethnal Green. That said, Ashley never mixed with most of the people inside. The only reason he here was because he wanted to give his cousin "Pretty Boy" Troy Wilkinson a fine "welcome home" party. Fresh from prison after a bid for arson, not many people knew who Troy was, and even fewer expected much from him. That's where Tom came in. "Sure, Tom, but..." Ashley began to bargain, "the girls, yeah?"
"The birds, Ash?" Tom looked over at his chauffeur with a soft look of disgust. "You reckon that's what's brought me 'ere, 'eh?"
Ashley dolled out apology after apology hoping Tom wouldn't tell him to take him home.
"Relax," said Tom as he looked back over at the hotel. "I'll get you in, ya cunt."



A black man in a tuxedo opened the doors to the hotel as Ashley and Tom ascended the stairs. "Sirs," said the doorman. Tom nodded, but Ashley was knackered by his nerves, so he hardly even noticed him.

A curtain of cigarette smoke, barrage of loud music, and the unmistakable stench of turpentine greeted them before any other. Turpentine, what the fuck for? thought Tom, but it soon occurred to him that, were it not for the overpowering smell, it very well could be an aroma of sweat, tobacco, and booze that was there at the door. Better turpentine, then, he thought.

"Tom!" shouted a familiar voice.
Oh, yeah. Blond hair parted to the right, thick, pursed lips, little button nose? "Diana Dors in the flesh. What brings you to the West End?" asked Tom.
"Oh, y'know," she started with a faux coy tone, "stuff!"
Tom nodded and turn to Ashley and said, "Get her a drink."
Ashley nodded and offered Diana his arm. She smiled at Tom as she wrapped her self around the chauffeur. "Bye, love!"
Tom winked at her and nodded.

Fuckin' hell, he thought, what a fuckin' shit show.

Chasity grinned up at Mr. Levin, accepting the cigarettes graciously and tucking them away in her little purse before her brothers could see. “Very kind of you Mr. Levin.” How long had she known the man? She didn’t know him as well as one might but still…years. Perhaps longer than she had known her real father, who passed when Chasity was rather small.

She often heard people complaining about the Jews, but for the most part her experience with them had made Chasity believe they were a generous, kind people. Being a protestant there were some differences but the Youngest Adler wasn’t one to discuss religion, politics, nor money. As no lady should.

Arching her brows in surprise Chasity took another tug on her jig. “Mr. Levin, I find it very hard to believe you are not much of a dancer, I’ve seen you about your shop, it’s practically a dance.” Her eyes flickered to Mr. Levin’s companion and back with a knowing smile. “I am sure your friend is more scintillating than you let on Mr. Levin, otherwise he couldn’t be your friend.”

In surprise Chasity was suddenly with a dance partner. A very large dance partner. “Oh!” She looked around for a place to set her Gimlet, finally depositing it beside Mr. Levin’s Primm. No. 1. “Thank you Mr. Berg.” A bright smile and a small sly look given to Mr. Levin and she was off.

As it turned out Mr. Levin had not been over exaggerating when he described Mr. Berg as rather dull. He was polite and as far as dance partners went, while a huge man, didn’t step on her feet nor let his hands wander. Miss Adler chatted occasionally and when the conversation faded she made do with crowd watching as they made their way across the dance floor.

Following a rather plain looking man with a lively blonde with her gaze Chasity felt a blush creeping over her cheeks as she realized the person the woman was waving to was Mr. Flowers. Another man she had known a long time, Mr. Flowers was not as friendly nor fatherly as Mr. Levin. That didn’t make him uninteresting in the least.

Chasity was caught staring by Mr. Flowers for a moment too long before Mr. Berg had turned her and she was no longer within view of the man. Biting her lower lip nervously Chasity hoped Mr. Flowers hadn’t really seen her peering over at him…Or didn’t recognize her. Which was worse?

These thoughts consumed her as the song ended and Mr. Berg offered his arm, which she took politely. He steered her back to the bar top where Chasity took a sip of her gimlet and a puff of her jig to fortify herself and smiled at Mr. Levin. “Mr. Berg proves himself an adapt dancer.” Reaching out to put her gimlet back down Chasity’s hand brushed against someone else’s .

Looking up to apologize the words almost died on her lips.”Mr. Flowers.” She breathed before recovered enough to smile up at him. How had he gotten to the bar so quickly? “How lovely to see you here as well… Do you know Mr. Levin?” They probably did, most businessmen in the West End knew each other some way or another.

Tom placed the cigar in his teeth and held it for a minute, allowing his hands to find a place in his pants' pockets. He looked around the room with the same unimpressed look that had become synonymous with the man. Jon, his son, would have loved it. Loud music, free drinks, and a place to crash after the night came to a close? Paradise for the boy. Sure, he would have loved it, but Tom had already decided it wasn't the place for his son - for anyone's son - and so Jon would stay home with his nanny.

One familiar face after another smiled and nodded at Tom as he slowly made his way to the bar. Celebrities, politicians, and gangsters alike all showed due respect to a man who made a life in a sea of death. Nobody caught his attention in particular as he lazily acknowledged each greeting - nobody except for the youngest Adler. Chasity, he thought, the cheeky girl. He pulled the cigar from his teeth and shifted his attention to the barman as he got closer. After ashing the cigar, he flicked his chin up at the server. "Rye."

Tom felt a hand brush his, and so he slowly turned to see who it was. Chasity Adler, the minx, who else? "Mr. Flowers," she said as she attempted to mask some sort of conflicting emotion, "how lovely to see you here as well. Do you know Mr. Levin?"

Which one is he, again? he thought as he called upon his very short-lived rant in the car, oh, yeah. The kyke. Not just any kyke. The kyke. He nodded once as he attempted to make eye contact with Isidor. "Aye, I know the man." He tried not to address him by name. He was due his respect, it's true, but personal prejudices stopped Tom from addressing him as "Mr. Levin" and lack of familiarity stopped him from addressing him as "Isidor."

By now the bartender had placed a glass with two thumbs of rye on a napkin beside Tom's hand, calling for his attention. He nodded and sipped the rye.

Levin permitted himself a smile as he watched Berg, surprisingly light on his feet for a big man, dance with Chasity. The Adler brothers would probably give him an earful for that. But Levin was an aging man, and he took vicarious pleasure in the young. If Chasity could have a good time here, great, if Berg could loosen up a little, even better. He took a contented sip of his Pimm's.

The small sips became surprised gulps when Levin saw who was coming through the door. Tom Flowers. God's fucking gift to gangsters. Levin sighed inwardly and downed his drink. If he had to put up with that uncouth braggart, Levin was going to need a stronger drink. This time, he waved over the bartender. "A Gibson, please," he asked. "Gordon's gin, of course, and exactly three onions. Very, very dry. In fact, as far as vermouth goes, just wave the glass in the general direction of Italy." Levin lit a cigarette as he anxiously watched the man make his entrance.

It wasn't all that long ago that Hyde Park and the Shaftesbury Firm had been at war with one another. Levin had lost a couple lads in that particular conflict. The word had been that Flowers was largely responsible for the truce, but in Levin's mind, trusting old enemies to keep their word was a little too much. Chamberlain had tried that, and look where that had ended up.

Levin had more than once done business with the Unione, vicious Corsican gangsters who ran most of Southern France behind the scenes. The Corse had a saying: a Christian forgives, only a fool forgets. Levin was Jewish, of course, and he certainly did not consider himself a fool.

Besides, even if Flowers wasn't an old foe, he was a petty vulgarian, an uncouth man who grew up poor and without class. A chazzer, in the Yiddish. You can put a chazzer in a Henry Poole suit, slap a Longines watch on his wrist and put him behind the wheel of a Bentley- won't matter. Still a chazzer.

Though, to be fair, Flowers dressed and lived quietly, without flash. Levin gratefully took his drink and had a reflective sip. Maybe they were more similar than he thought, maybe Flowers was a man worth knowing. Maybe it'd be worth it to be friendly with the man- not friends, of course, but friendly. Speaking terms, at best. Just enough to know the measure of the man.

His reverie was interrupted as Berg (looking a little too grateful to be finished) returned Miss Adler to the bar. Flowers had worked his way over. Chasity, bless her, spared Levin the awkwardness of trying to figure out a personal introduction. Excellent.

Levin made his move, a calculated gesture. It had to be friendly, but not familiar- a delicate balance. He extracted his cigarette case, handed one to Berg as a reward for showing Chasity a good time. Then, as an affected afterthought, he stretched the open case towards the Shaftesbury man. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?"

Cold might be too harsh of a word, but the way Mr. Flowers looked at Mr. Levin was certainly not warmly. Her pretty lashes flickered between the two and she brought her hand up to take another drag on her jig. It was almost done.

“You do?” She confirmed brightly, smiling and finding the right thing to say. “Mr. Levin makes the most beautiful jewelry I must say…” She brought her hand clutching the withering jig and painted harlot red finger nails up to showcase the diamond pendant resting just above her cleavage. “Don’t you agree Mr. Flowers?” Her grey blue eyes dared to look up at his for a moment longer before fluttering away demurely.

A smile toyed in the corner of her red lips.

“I think…” She snubbed out the remains of her own cigarette in the ash tray on the bar, and reached forward to take one of the offered specialty blends from Mr. Levin’s offered hand. “That Mr. Flowers only smokes cigars…” Harlot red nails pulled out single jig before fumbling for her purse. "But if you don't mind Mr. Levin I will happily take this opportunity..." Half way through this act she recalled that she still didn’t have any matches nor a lighter. A look of despair moved over her classic features before she realized she was standing with two smokers.

“Mr. Flowers?” She asked, showing the jig that needed to be lit. He nodded.

Grey eyes drifted up to Mr. Flowers as she placed the cigarette between her lips.

Leaning in carefully (so that her head was bent to the light) she kept the jig in place between her index and middle finger of her left hand while her right cupped the offered flame. Inhaling she looked up coyly through her lashes at Mr. Flowers. Chasity felt a smile trying to work its way across her face before settling back and exhaling.

“Very kind of you…” She murmured, her voice barely audible above the music. Mr. Flowers wasn’t really the type to go to social shin digs, at least not the ones Chasity attended. Or more accurately, she rarely saw him at these events. He was a businessman like her brothers, and around their age as well, but she had never thought of him as stuffy or over showy like the Adler Boys could be. But he wasn’t someone she could be casually comfortable around like she was with Mr. Levin.

No… Chasity thought as she rested her hand against the bar top, her free one reaching for her drink. They were different kinds of men entirely. Pressing her red (harlot red) lips together so that they formed a perfect O she blew another cloud of smoke out before having a sip of her drink.

“Mr. Levin, this is a nice blend… Were you only teasing when you said you’d give me the name of this batch?” Miss Adler noticed that Mr. Levin had switched over to a stronger drink. Odd. Perhaps he had gotten tired of the fruit? “Of course…”She lowered her voice conspiratorially “We can’t tell my brothers, but what they don’t know won’t kill them right?” That was probably not true. At all. But Chasity Smoking was probably the least of the Adler’s concerns.

They were still at their own table arguing and drinking, a few ladies had joined them and Chasity thought it was likely they wouldn’t miss her for a while longer.

Not to his surprise, but at least to his pleasure, Levin made the first move. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?" Flowers. Tom felt like kissing the Jew for providing him with an adequate way of addressing him. Impersonal but personal at the same time. Not offensive, not pleasant, and not inherently disrespectful - that was most important.

However, before Tom could answer the jeweller, Chasity did it for him. "I think," she said, "that Mr. Flowers only smokes cigars." He didn't respond to Chasity's question about Levin's jewellery. Truth is he did like the Jew's work, but preferred to get it from the Russian in Bethnal Green; Ludmil. The prices were roughly 80% cheaper than in-store, but that was likely because he was a jewel thief - the best in Western Europe, in fact - and had, on occasion, lifted some of Levin's pieces. Those were Tom's favourite in truth. He had a number of rings that came from Levin's hands but did not often wear them in the West End. Too many questions to ask, too many names to drop.

"She's right," said Tom, "but it would be poor form if I said no." He gave a light nod in appreciation and took a cigarette from Levin's case. He placed it between his lips and took out a match book from his breast pocket, struck one of the matches, and lit Chasity's cigarette. He did little more than grunt and nod to answer Chasity's smile before bringing the flame to his own cigarette.

After he put the match out, he turned to see Ashley approaching him with a handsome young man. Of the twins, Reggie was easily the more agreeable. He considered continuing the conversation with Levin and Chasity but they'd started off on their own topic, and it would be rude to turn away one of the infamous Krays. Even in the infancy of their criminal careers, they were known throughout the West End.

"Mr. Flowers," started Reggie, "good to see you again."
Tom's face remained unchanged. "Aye, it is." He nodded. "Done boxing, then?"
Reggie shrugged with a cheeky grin, "don't pay like you."
Tom winked at Reggie and looked at Ashley. "Where's the other one?"
"Fuckin' about with my cousin," Ashley replies with a nod to the stairs, "in the lounge."
Tom grunts and looks back at Reggie. "Got 'im under wraps, have ya?"
Reggie laughs, "Does anyone?"
Tom nods. "Right. Well, get a drink and fuck off, then."
The young Kray nods and heads to the other side of the bar, leaving Tom and Ashley. The chauffeur leans into Tom's side and says quietly, but somehow audibly to the pair at their side, "Yardie's 'round back."

Yardie. Fuckin' Yardie. The Jamaican immigrant, Frayne's pitbull, the Shade of Shaftesbury, thought Tom, and my mate from the bin. Fuckin' Yardie. Fuckin' DeShawn Crawford. Lord knows why he works for me and Mase when Solomon Aldridge - that fuckin' "black rights activist"-- more like a glorified fucking gangster - is just an hour's drive south. Kykes with kykes, blacks with blacks, all that race-bound loyalty bullshit. He didn't buy into it, really. He didn't hate the Jews because they were Jews, he hated the Jews because they cornered a profitable racket. He hated the blacks because they were romanticized terrorists. He hated everyone else because he was a miserable cunt.

Tom nodded and flicked his chin towards the door. "Tell 'em I'll be a minute. Bring 'em a gin."

Ashley slapped Tom's shoulder and left the hotel with a bottle of Tanqueray Dry Gin.

Tom turned to Chasity as he watched Henry Adler storming over in a huff. A kyke, he thought and now a muppet.

Levin smiled at the young lady, the started scratching down the name and address of his tobacconist on a cocktail napkin for her. Then, for the second time that evening, he froze at the sight of someone approaching.

Reggie Kray.

Levin always kept his ear to the ground, wanting to know who was who, which gang was which. He had never met the twins personally, but he had heard plenty. Enough to make him deeply wary of the Krays, especially Ronnie. They were violent. That was to be expected in this business, true- Levin had ordered more than one man to be "put on a train to Cardiff". But Ronnie enjoyed it, far too much. And he made no attempt to hide how utterly mad he was, either. Ronnie wore that madness openly, like a suit of armor, daring anyone at all to try and cross the twins.

Levin recalled a story he had heard a couple months back. Some upstart Maltese gang had tried to crash in on the Krays' snooker hall in Bethnal Green. The fools actually tried to collect protection money from the Krays. Word was the pair had gone absolutely mental. Reggie had contented himself by stabbing the leader of the Maltese through the hand, pinning him to a snooker table. But Ronnie, of course, had rushed the lot of them with a fucking sword, of all things. He chased six men off by himself.

These were men to be feared, particularly if they ever managed to get the money and influence they craved. Chazzers, both of them. If Flowers was a small chazzer, then these men were giants, colossi in the world of chazzers.

Levin remembered himself after a brief pause, resumed writing down the name of his tobacconist. Flowers seemed to be engaged with his driver at the moment. He had seemed friendly with Reggie Kray. For a brief moment, Levin contemplated tapping Flowers on the shoulder, telling him not to touch the Krays with a ten-foot pole, not to do anything that would advance them in any way. But they were hardly friends- Flowers would probably personally underwrite a loan to the Krays out of spite if Levin said anything like that. And so the Jew kept his mouth shut and passed his note to Chasity.

Henry Adler materialized, pushing Berg aside and looming over Chasity. "Evening, Henry," Levin greeted him, sensing his dark mood. Who was he about to lash out at, he wondered- Chasity? Flowers? Levin himself, for "corrupting" his little sister? It wouldn't be the first time, but Levin always won that argument. Coolly, he stared at Henry and took a measured sip of his Gibson, waiting for the other man to make his move.

Chasity puffed on the new jig for a moment longer, sparing Mr. Flowers and his friends a glance before leaning in to peer over Mr. Levin’s shoulder as he wrote down the information for her. Taking the napkin and folding it she tucked it into her purse with a smile and a fond hand clasping Mr. Levin’s in thanks.

But he was distracted slightly by Mr. Flowers friends as well. Men. Always more interested in each other’s business than dancing or ladies.

As if coming over to prove this very point Henry Adler barged into the scene. Chasity barely had enough time to drop the jig in her hand on the bar top and step to the side hoping that this would obstruct Henry’s view … That was if he hadn’t already seen that she was smoking.

Chasity’s eyes widened nervously and her harlot red lips stretched back in a defensive smile. “Henry!” She welcomed her brother affectionately..ish. “Chasity.” He snapped, his glower making it abundantly clear that his bad mood from earlier was still holding on. The tall middle brother turned to nod at Mr. Levin and Mr. Flowers. “Good to see you gents… Wondering what it is my Sister is getting up to over here…”His tone wasn’t exactly accusatory… But it wasn’t totally polite either, though his sharp gaze was more directed at Chasity than anything else.

She blushed and realized that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to get her brothers the drinks. Not with Henry in such a foul mood.

“Well you see I was just thanking Mr. Levin for his beautiful jewelry I’m wearing now when I bumped into Mr. Flowers. So I was making sure they were introduced…” She faded off slowly as Henry’s expression didn’t change. He was certainly between a rock and a hard place.

The Adler’s had business dealings with Mr. Levin and overall the old Jew wasn’t a threat to Chasity. But he tended to indulge Chasity in her childish whims. And Mr. Flowers. Mr. Flowers… Well he dealt with some folks that Henry didn’t want Chasity to have anything to do with. But Henry had a healthy respect for Mr. Flowers… Walter called it fear but Henry insisted it was respect.

All of this tied up with his love for his sister and his hatred of her being seen as anything but virginal by other men. Put in some bollix selling in THEIR territory and the inability to take this out on the appropriate target and you got Henry with some misplaced anger. And Chasity was the best target in this setting.

“You see, I thought I saw you smoking over here Chasity…” He tried for a calm tone but didn’t really meet his goal. “We’ve had some chats about that” “I wasn’t smo-“ “I saw you Chasity. Don’t lie to me.” Chasity shut her lips and looked away.

Were they home she might have argued that she was 23 now and should be able to make such decisions herself. Instead she bit her tongue in embarrassment. For her brothers behavior in public, and for Mr. Levin to see this… Her dark gaze flickered to Mr. Flowers as well. How humiliating. Why was Walter and Joseph letting Henry off his leash?

She looked to their table long enough to see they were in a huddled discussion with a black man she hadn’t seen before.

Henry however took this glance as an offence. Chasity was always getting Walter to fight her battles for her. Well he wouldn’t let her go off tattling to big brother now. Reaching out he grabbed his sister by the elbow tightly, starting to steer her away from the group. “Joe wants a word with you anyway Chasity…” He lied.

“Mr. Levin, Mr. Flowers… Nice to see you both.”

“Let me get my purse…” Chasity quipped, Henry’s grip was so strong his fingers were digging harshly into the exposed skin on her arm. He ignored her comment and continued to haul her away as Chasity reached for her purse.