The idea for this story came to me one morning while I was half asleep and it just went from there. I wanna thank LT and especially Deke for all their beta help on this and Elektra for leads on research and basically just listening while I rattled :-).
This is another one of my odd jumbles of Movieverse and comic canon. It's Movieverse Logan with comic book Logan's background although I've taken some liberties with the timeline of Logan's epiphany.
I've also taken some literary license with the existence of burlesque theaters in New York City in the 40's since Mayor Fiorello La Guardia actually began shutting them down in 1937 but I'm sure you all don't really care ;-)
Disclaimer: Logan and anyone else you recognize belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox. Everyone else is mine but I'm willing to share 'em. I'm poor and not making any money of this so please don't sue me.
Feedback: Fugu me, man!
At 8:00 am the next morning he was knocking on the door of Brandy's apartment. He pulled his hat off when she opened the door. When she threw it back to let him in he saw she wasn't dressed. She stood just inside the doorway in a pair of men's striped flannel pajamas; her hair was wrapped up in rag curlers. He grinned at the picture she made.
"Oh, gosh, Logan. I'm running so late, I'm sorry." He followed her through the apartment as she raced to get ready. His gaze trailed over her feet, the only part of her besides her face and hands that were exposed in the pajamas. She had the most delicate ankles and a beautiful instep and he felt a stirring in his groin. He shook his head in amazement but then decided it must because he saw so much of her body on a regular basis that seeing her all covered up with just her feet exposed was a novelty.
He followed her into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway when he spied the little boy sitting there eating his breakfast.
Brandy stood behind his chair and smiled up at Logan.
"Logan, I'd like you to meet Michael, my son. Michael, this is Mr. Logan, a friend of mommy's from work."
Logan smiled at the boy. "Hi, Mike."
The little boy smiled shyly. Logan guessed he was about three or four.
"Have a seat, Logan. Mikey can take care of himself but could you keep an eye on him while I get dressed. There's some fresh coffee on the stove. I don't have any sugar I'm afraid. Mike likes to use a lot on his oatmeal and I'm out until next month's ration book comes."
She ran into the bedroom, pulling the rags out of her hair on the way.
Logan poured himself some coffee, sat down at the table next to the little boy and watched as he proceeded to get more oatmeal on his face than in his mouth.
"So, Mikey. You like oatmeal?"
The little boy shook his head vigorously in the negative and Logan chuckled.
Logan took a sip of his coffee and noticed Mike looking at him very intently. Logan smiled at him.
"Were you in the war?" the boy asked quietly.
"Yes, Mikey, I was."
"Mommy says Daddy was in the war too and he got hurt bad and that's why he can never come home to live with us."
Logan ruffled Mike's hair. "A lot of daddies got hurt in the war, Mike. I'm sorry yours did and that he can't come home."
The little boy scrambled down off the chair and ran into the living room, coming back with a picture frame. Logan took it from him. It was picture of a good-looking young man in an army dress uniform.
"This is my Daddy. Mommy says I look like him."
Logan looked at the handsome little boy and then back to the picture.
"Yep, ya sure do, Mike." Logan told him.
Brandy came back in. She was dressed and her hair was done. Logan noticed she wore very little make-up when she wasn't at the theater, just a little powder and some lipstick. He watched as she fastened an earring and saw that there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
"Mikey, what are you doing with Daddy's picture?"
"He was just showing it to me," Logan told her. She took it from him and placed it back in the living room.
"Mike. Mommy has told you to be careful with Daddy's picture before, didn't I?"
Mike looked at his little feet and scuffed his sneakers along the kitchen floor.
"Yes, Mommy. I'm sorry."
Brandy wet a rag in the sink and wrung it out, then bent to wipe off the boy's hands and face.
"Ok. But don't let it happen again. Now get your things, I'm taking you to Mrs. Lieberman's now."
Mike skipped out of the kitchen.
"I hope he wasn't bothering you too much, Logan."
"Not at all, darlin'. He was just askin' me if I was in the war."
Brandy pinned on her hat and then put on her coat and gloves.
"Logan, I forgot to mention. Around here I'm Nina. That's my real name. People here don't know I'm a stripper and I'd like to keep it that way."
He nodded. Nina, "Little Girl." It suited her, he thought. She couldn't have been more than 23 or 24, which meant she was very young when she was married, when she was widowed, when Michael was born. His heart went out to her. It must have been hard losing a husband and becoming a mother when you were still only a child yourself. The war had made everyone grow up very quickly.
A new admiration was dawning for her. So she stripped. Well, it was very good money. She had a nice home and provided for her son very well. Nina. . . Brandy. . . both of them actually, seemed to have the situation well in hand. It seemed like she was a born survivor, something he could well identify with.
She gathered up Logan, Mike and a sack full of his toys and ushered them both out the door. Their first stop was next door where a plump matronly lady with a Yiddish accent answered the door and took Mike into her apartment. Then Brandy took Logan downstairs to meet her landlady.
She knocked on the door. A thin lipped, stern looking woman answered the door and Logan knew why Nina didn't want anyone to know she was a stripper. This one looked like she didn't take any garbage from anyone.
"Hi, Mrs. Di Sicco," Nina greeted the grumpy looking woman. "This is Mr. Logan, the man interested in the efficiency apartment."
Mrs. Di Sicco eyed Logan up and down. "Let me get my keys and I'll show it to you." She reached behind the door and came back with a large key ring. She pulled the door shut behind her. "It's in the basement so we have to go back outside."
She led them out the front door, and around the stoop to the basement door. Unlocking it she stood aside to let them both in. The apartment was a small, sparsely furnished room with a small bathroom and a kitchenette area with an old icebox and hot plate.
Mrs. Di Sicco walked over to the wall and pulled down the Murphy bed. "It's small and since it's an efficiency you can't really do much cooking but it's a nice neighborhood and a good building as I'm sure Mrs. Dillard has told you," she said indicating Nina.
Mrs. Dillard? Nina Dillard. Logan smiled at her and she blushed and looked away. Mrs. Di Sicco cleared her throat and Logan realized she was waiting for his answer about the room.
"I'd love to take it, Mrs. Di Sicco. Would tonight be too soon to bring my things over? I'd like to get out of the hotel I've been staying at right away."
"That will be acceptable. I'll need the first weeks' rent in advance and I'll expect it every Monday morning on the dot."
Logan handed the landlady $10 for the first week and took the keys.
When he and Nina were out on the street again she turned to him.
"She likes you," she told him.
He gave her a dubious look. "How can you tell?"
Nina just giggled.
They rode the subway together to the theater and had just entered when they were both ambushed by Rosie.
"AHA!" She shrieked. "I knew it! I knew I'd find you with this puta!"
Brandy's eyes flashed angrily. Logan gave a long-suffering sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
"There's nothing going on, Rosie. I took the room in Brandy's building. We're going to be riding in together from now on so you'd better get used to seeing us together."
"Pull yourself together and start acting like an adult, Rosie," Brandy told her in a steely voice. "I'm not going to go through a scene like this every morning. And get your mind out of the gutter! Just because you sleep with every man you see doesn't mean the rest of us do." She turned on her heel and strode away leaving a seething Rosie to gape after her.
The redhead spun to face Logan. "You haven't heard the last of this, Logan. You'd better keep an eye on your new girlfriend," she said significantly. Reaching down she pulled up the hem of her skirt to reveal a stiletto neatly concealed in her garter, then she too turned on her heel and stalked off.
Logan shook his head. Dammit, this was going to be at the best annoying and at the worst dangerous for Brandy. He had no doubt that if Rosie jumped her she'd fight tooth and nail but the other woman was bigger and from the looks of it, ruthless. He was going to have to keep an eye on her from now on, or at least until Rosie found herself another boyfriend.
Everyone in the theater except the chorus girls had one rotating day off per week besides Sundays, when the theater was closed. Logan decided to go to Joe, explain the situation and make sure his day was always scheduled the same day as Brandy's.
When a week passed and Rosie hadn't made any moves against Brandy or started any scenes with him, he began to relax a bit, but he was still watchful. He and Brandy settled into a companionable routine. They rode to work together every morning and home on those nights when he didn't go out drinking with the rest of the cast and crew. When he did go out he made sure to put her in a cab right outside the theater. She thought he was being ridiculous and over protective but he wasn't one to take any chances in a situation like this.
One day as he and Gus were setting the scenery for the first performance he heard an angry shriek from the dressing rooms.
"Rosie! Show your face you two-dollar slut!" Logan turned with alarm. It was Brandy yelling, and he'd never heard her use language even remotely like that. She was never anything but a lady.
She came rushing down the stairs in her dressing gown, her face flushed, hair flying wildly behind her.
Joe came running up to her, as did Logan.
She stopped in front of them both and looked from one to the other, chest heaving. She held up the shredded remains of her costume for both of them to see.
"Look at what Rosie did! Joe, you know how much these things cost! Not to mention the fact that I've got to go to the black market just to get enough fabric! No one can make a strip costume with only two and a half yards of fabric!" She said referring to the rationing still in place despite the end of the war. "She destroyed it completely. What am I going to wear now?"
"Can't you borrow from someone else, darlin'?" Logan asked.
Joe shook his head. "Even if someone would lend her something, she wouldn't wear it. No stripper would be seen dead in another girl's rig. Brandy, honey, you're not gonna like this but you're going to have to wear your costume from the last show until you can make something else. I'll give you the money for the materials, okay?"
They all turned at the sound of a clucking tongue behind them.
Rosie smiled beatifically at all three of them. "You really should take better care of your belongings, dear." She told Brandy.
Brandy tensed like a cat ready to spring. Logan surreptitiously placed a hand on her elbow to hold her back.
"You witch, this is all your fault!" she spat at the other woman whose smile only became wider.
"I really don't know what you're talking about," Rosie said nonchalantly. "I simply happened to be walking by and I heard the uproar."
Logan narrowed his eyes at her and for a second her smile wavered but then it was right back.
"Rosie, I don't know what game you're playing but it had better stop right now or you're out of here. Am I understood?" Joe said in a tone that brooked no argument. Rosie merely shrugged and walked away. The three of them watched her go warily.
Logan turned to Brandy. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, this is all my fault."
"Oh, forget it, Logan. You had no way of knowing how crazy she is or how much she hates me," Brandy told him.
Joe just gave him the "I told you so" look over her head.
Brandy left them to go looking for Anna, the wardrobe mistress, and have that woman dig out her costume from their last show. She sighed deeply. She was going to have to do the old routine as well because the skirt wasn't cut full enough for her to do the current one. This was absolutely unheard of!
"Poor kid," Joe said as she walked away. "She's never been anything but an asset around here. She sews costumes for the other girls for extra cash. Even helps them with their choreography and this is what she gets in return; trouble from that crazy frail." He shook his head.
"How much is it going to cost her to replace her costume?" Logan asked.
"Since she sews them herself probably not as much as having one made but I'm guessing at least a grand."
Logan whistled low through his teeth. He never even guessed they were so expensive. There was so little to them but then again they were very elaborate and highly adorned with jewels, beads and feathers. He knew that every girl's was unique and that copying either costumes or routines was considered an unforgivable faux pas.
He resolved to keep a closer watch on Brandy from now on.
She sank down wearily next to him on the subway that night.
"Now I'm going to have to spend my whole day off tomorrow remaking that costume! I was going to take Mikey to the park if it was nice!"
"I'll take him for you, darlin'," Logan said contritely. He felt really terrible about having been the cause of the trouble between her and Rosie. "I'll even cook dinner for ya so you don't have to spend time doing that."
She looked at him in mock surprise. "You cook? I'm not going to get something boiled in a helmet, am I?"
"Very funny. Yes, I cook and while I can't promise Paris cuisine, I guarantee you it will be tasty and edible."
"Well, how could a lady refuse and offer like that?"
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