A Steel Magnolia's Guide to Mutation
Chapter: 9
Author's note: I don't believe you guys had to wait a terrible long time for this chapter...right? Well anyway, the famous Debby is lording over what gets put in this chapter since she happens to be sitting to my left. I'm scared.
"Cats" at nine o'clock at night on a Saturday. Business was booming. Rogue was frantically going from table to table, taking down orders on a writing pad that was rapidly running out of paper. She felt a sharp pain as Billy-John Johnson, resident old harmless pervert, pinched her bottom. She turned around and tried to look cross at the old man, who was laughing.
"Now see here Mr. Johnson..."
"Don't take it personal sweetheart, I'm just messing with you, you're very pretty when you get angry."
"Someday I'm going to slap you right across your ugly old face, nasty codger....." She said this all with a hesitant smile on her face.
"And then next Saturday I'll pinch your ass again," he told her confidently. She just shook her head and waited on her next table.
Somewhere a few blocks away, Logan was quickly approaching aforementioned destination with murder on his mind. Disturbing images of his Rogue dancing for strange drunk, evil men were flashing through his mind, and he definitely did not like it. If he didn't control his rage soon, there would definitely be a mass neutering at "Cats" once he arrived.
"This is all that damned Cajun's fault. I'll kill him too..." he muttered as the neon sign of "Cats" became prominent.
A few blocks in the other direction, Remy LeBeau was approaching with a calmer demeanor, and a feeling of dread for his absent friend. He knew for certain that his romantic feelings for Rogue were starting to fade into a more brotherly concern for her well-being. He definitely didn't want to think about the old perverts that were most definitely trying to grope her ass at that very moment. It wasn't a pretty thought. He should've given Syd a good talking to for allowing her to work at a place like that.
"This is all Logan's fault."
Back at club, Rogue was called to the backroom to make last minute alterations to Ginger Day's costume. Well, more like alteration to her two scraps of clothing that she was planning on wearing in a half an hour. Sitting at her worktable, she began working on sewing on a few more sequins, because apparently Ginger had complained about its lack of sparkle. She was a bit of an evil troll bitch to be around, and was another person on Rogue's list to beat the crap out of on a cold day in hell.
Ginger hovered closely over Rogue's shoulder, barking orders over where each sequin was to be placed. Rogue's fingers were shaking with the effort to keep her cool. The Logan inside of her wanted to scratch up Ginger's delicate porcelain face to little shreds. However, she resisted. She really, really hated redheads, even unnatural ones like Ginger, who was apparently really a dishwater blonde. The dark red of the costume was bound to look horrendous with Ginger's new bright carroty color.
"I'm finished," Rogue proclaimed, setting down the needle and thread. Ginger picked it up and inspected it with a disgusted look on her face.
"It seems to be okay, but I don't want to try it on right away and end up looking like a damned fool. You try it on, little girl. If it looks good on you then it will look sensational on me."
Rogue rolled her eyes and retreated to a dressing cubicle without a word. She emerged a minute or two later in full costume. Ginger was not there.
"Ginger, I'm wearing it." No reply.
"Damn it, Ginger, come get your fucking costume!" No reply. Rogue noticed a small note on the table. "Went out front for a cig. You took too long. I want to see the costume so come out front or I won't wear it. -Ginger."
"Oh hell no!" Rogue cried. She knew what this was. Ginger, for some reason, had a deep resentment for Rogue, and this was all an elaborately planned humiliation for her. It had to be. Everyone that worked at "Cats" considered Rogue to be a prude, and it would be a great joke to see her walk out wearing next to nothing. They all wanted to see her blushing face close to tears so they could tease and make fun. It was then where Rogue realized that she would walk out to the front of the club, and she would do it with confidence, and she would carry herself as a sexy sophisticated not prudish girl, and wouldn't they be surprised.
"Here goes nothing."
It was about that time when Logan and Remy stepped into the club at the exact same time. The both of them looked at each other with hatred burning in their eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Logan growled.
"Taking Rogue away from this place."
"What a coincidence..."
"If you've got something to say, Logan, you should say it."
"I hate you."
"Well I would hate you, but the fact that you care for Rogue speaks highly for you. It appears you have some taste."
"Thanks, smart ass."
"Shut up, there she is."
Both sets of eyes were drawn to a figure emerging from the backroom. It was Rogue, dressed in a costume that was even inappropriate for a Victoria's Secret model. She was smiling confidently at those around her...until her eyes were drawn to the entrance.
"Oh holy shit."
Remy stood there gaping, a little bit grateful for her state of undress. Very unbrotherly scenarios were running through his mind. Logan approached her, taking off his leather jacket and wrapping her in it.
"Who made you wear this?" He demanded.
"N-nobody..."
"Don't lie."
"Ginger Day."
"I don't know who the hell she is, but you're not working here anymore, that's for damn sure." He started to usher her out of the club, and that's when she snapped.
"Don't touch me! You can't tell me where I can and can't work, Logan, you're not my dad, you're not my husband, or my boyfriend, and last time I checked I didn't think you even wanted to be my friend, so leave me the hell alone."
"If you are going to parade around like a whore, then I WILL tell you what to do, and even if you don't listen, I will KEEP telling you what to do!"
"Why? Why bother? Why can't you just leave me be?"
Remy was pulled out of his trance and was fixated on the intense argument. He didn't dare contribute.
"Because you're mine, Rogue."
Rogue was floored. She struggled hard for a retaliation statement, and opted to storm out of the club, still wearing his jacket.
"Don't walk away, I'm not finished talking to you."
She turned back to him.
"You're not talking to me, you're screaming at me. When you can distinguish one from the other, please contact me." She had managed to hail a cab before this, and in a flash of yellow, she was gone.
End of Chapter
Chapter: 9
Author's note: I don't believe you guys had to wait a terrible long time for this chapter...right? Well anyway, the famous Debby is lording over what gets put in this chapter since she happens to be sitting to my left. I'm scared.
"Cats" at nine o'clock at night on a Saturday. Business was booming. Rogue was frantically going from table to table, taking down orders on a writing pad that was rapidly running out of paper. She felt a sharp pain as Billy-John Johnson, resident old harmless pervert, pinched her bottom. She turned around and tried to look cross at the old man, who was laughing.
"Now see here Mr. Johnson..."
"Don't take it personal sweetheart, I'm just messing with you, you're very pretty when you get angry."
"Someday I'm going to slap you right across your ugly old face, nasty codger....." She said this all with a hesitant smile on her face.
"And then next Saturday I'll pinch your ass again," he told her confidently. She just shook her head and waited on her next table.
Somewhere a few blocks away, Logan was quickly approaching aforementioned destination with murder on his mind. Disturbing images of his Rogue dancing for strange drunk, evil men were flashing through his mind, and he definitely did not like it. If he didn't control his rage soon, there would definitely be a mass neutering at "Cats" once he arrived.
"This is all that damned Cajun's fault. I'll kill him too..." he muttered as the neon sign of "Cats" became prominent.
A few blocks in the other direction, Remy LeBeau was approaching with a calmer demeanor, and a feeling of dread for his absent friend. He knew for certain that his romantic feelings for Rogue were starting to fade into a more brotherly concern for her well-being. He definitely didn't want to think about the old perverts that were most definitely trying to grope her ass at that very moment. It wasn't a pretty thought. He should've given Syd a good talking to for allowing her to work at a place like that.
"This is all Logan's fault."
Back at club, Rogue was called to the backroom to make last minute alterations to Ginger Day's costume. Well, more like alteration to her two scraps of clothing that she was planning on wearing in a half an hour. Sitting at her worktable, she began working on sewing on a few more sequins, because apparently Ginger had complained about its lack of sparkle. She was a bit of an evil troll bitch to be around, and was another person on Rogue's list to beat the crap out of on a cold day in hell.
Ginger hovered closely over Rogue's shoulder, barking orders over where each sequin was to be placed. Rogue's fingers were shaking with the effort to keep her cool. The Logan inside of her wanted to scratch up Ginger's delicate porcelain face to little shreds. However, she resisted. She really, really hated redheads, even unnatural ones like Ginger, who was apparently really a dishwater blonde. The dark red of the costume was bound to look horrendous with Ginger's new bright carroty color.
"I'm finished," Rogue proclaimed, setting down the needle and thread. Ginger picked it up and inspected it with a disgusted look on her face.
"It seems to be okay, but I don't want to try it on right away and end up looking like a damned fool. You try it on, little girl. If it looks good on you then it will look sensational on me."
Rogue rolled her eyes and retreated to a dressing cubicle without a word. She emerged a minute or two later in full costume. Ginger was not there.
"Ginger, I'm wearing it." No reply.
"Damn it, Ginger, come get your fucking costume!" No reply. Rogue noticed a small note on the table. "Went out front for a cig. You took too long. I want to see the costume so come out front or I won't wear it. -Ginger."
"Oh hell no!" Rogue cried. She knew what this was. Ginger, for some reason, had a deep resentment for Rogue, and this was all an elaborately planned humiliation for her. It had to be. Everyone that worked at "Cats" considered Rogue to be a prude, and it would be a great joke to see her walk out wearing next to nothing. They all wanted to see her blushing face close to tears so they could tease and make fun. It was then where Rogue realized that she would walk out to the front of the club, and she would do it with confidence, and she would carry herself as a sexy sophisticated not prudish girl, and wouldn't they be surprised.
"Here goes nothing."
It was about that time when Logan and Remy stepped into the club at the exact same time. The both of them looked at each other with hatred burning in their eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Logan growled.
"Taking Rogue away from this place."
"What a coincidence..."
"If you've got something to say, Logan, you should say it."
"I hate you."
"Well I would hate you, but the fact that you care for Rogue speaks highly for you. It appears you have some taste."
"Thanks, smart ass."
"Shut up, there she is."
Both sets of eyes were drawn to a figure emerging from the backroom. It was Rogue, dressed in a costume that was even inappropriate for a Victoria's Secret model. She was smiling confidently at those around her...until her eyes were drawn to the entrance.
"Oh holy shit."
Remy stood there gaping, a little bit grateful for her state of undress. Very unbrotherly scenarios were running through his mind. Logan approached her, taking off his leather jacket and wrapping her in it.
"Who made you wear this?" He demanded.
"N-nobody..."
"Don't lie."
"Ginger Day."
"I don't know who the hell she is, but you're not working here anymore, that's for damn sure." He started to usher her out of the club, and that's when she snapped.
"Don't touch me! You can't tell me where I can and can't work, Logan, you're not my dad, you're not my husband, or my boyfriend, and last time I checked I didn't think you even wanted to be my friend, so leave me the hell alone."
"If you are going to parade around like a whore, then I WILL tell you what to do, and even if you don't listen, I will KEEP telling you what to do!"
"Why? Why bother? Why can't you just leave me be?"
Remy was pulled out of his trance and was fixated on the intense argument. He didn't dare contribute.
"Because you're mine, Rogue."
Rogue was floored. She struggled hard for a retaliation statement, and opted to storm out of the club, still wearing his jacket.
"Don't walk away, I'm not finished talking to you."
She turned back to him.
"You're not talking to me, you're screaming at me. When you can distinguish one from the other, please contact me." She had managed to hail a cab before this, and in a flash of yellow, she was gone.
End of Chapter