Well Out Of My League
Angie Martinelli/Dum Dum Dugan
DumWaitress? Ugh. Duganelli? Martigan? Nothing sounds right!
Theme song:
Bing Crosby – Swinging On A Star
Living with Peggy was even more fun than Angie had ever imagined. Especially in Mr Stark's fancy mansion. It was a ten-minute bus ride to work through some of the nicest parts of New York, and sometimes Mr Jarvis even drove her in one of Mr Stark's fancy cars, if he was going her way.
Peggy wasn't much of a party girl, which was understandable with her job and all, but that didn't stop Angie trying to get her to go out and socialise once in a while. She walked in through the door one evening, spotted Peggy's coat already on the rack, and walked through towards the lounge calling;
"Hey English, please tell me you'll come out tonight? It's Saturday night and I haven't been dancing in ages!"
She heard Peggy's rich laugh, followed, to her surprised, by the sound of male laughter – more than one man, unless she very much missed her guess. Not just Mr Jarvis, then – perhaps Mr Stark had stopped by? Well Angie wasn't going to primp for him, no sir, she knew all about Howard Stark. She wasn't going to fall for his charm. She passed by the hall mirror without a glance and pushed the lounge door open.
"Oh!"
Mr Stark was indeed there, she'd seen his picture in the papers enough times to recognise him instantly, and Mr Jarvis too, but there were about half a dozen other men in the room, all rising to their feet as she entered.
"Angie," Peggy stood too, came quickly to her side with a reassuring smile. "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine, who I served with in the war. The Howling Commandos, or some of them."
"Oh, my lord," Angie had to fight down the impulse to flee. Legends, heroes, she was meeting these men with her hair all over the place and a run in her stockings…
"Enchanté, mademoiselle!" the closest man bowed over her hand gallantly, and Angie couldn't help but smile.
"You must be Jacques Dernier," she said as he stood straight, and he smiled delightedly.
"Oui, c'est vrai! Vous êtes aussi intelligent que vous êtes belle!"
The handsome black man next to Dernier grinned. "He says that you're as intelligent as you are beautiful, Miss…"
"Where are my manners, I've been quite thrown by you all turning up out of the blue," Peggy said gaily. "This is my dear friend Angie Martinelli."
"Miss Martinelli. Gabe Jones, delighted to meet you."
Angie smiled shyly in return, and then the next man was stepping into Gabe's place.
"James Montgomery Falsworth, Miss Martinelli, but it's far too much of a mouthful, please call me Monty." He had an English accent, just like Peg's, which made Angie like him immediately.
"And you must all call me Angie," she said, "she's told me so many wonderful stories about you all, I feel that we're friends already."
Howard Stark elbowed his way in next, lifting her hand to kiss. Angie gave him a flat stare.
"Don't even think about it, Howard, I've told her lots of stories about you too," Peggy called dryly, and Howard sighed.
"A shame. All right, Peg, your gorgeous friend is off limits."
Angie found herself blushing just a little as Howard gave her a lingering look. Goodness. His charm was lethal. She could quite see why girls fell all over themselves, even knowing about his reputation.
The slim, good-looking Japanese man behind Howard bowed to her formally. "Jim Morita, Miss Martinelli."
"Angie, please," she smiled at him. "Peggy said you're from Fresno! I have a cousin living there, she got married and moved out west a couple years back."
"I haven't been home in longer than that, miss… Angie," Jim replied with a wistful smile, "but if you give me your cousin's name, I'll surely be glad to look her up when I get back."
Tim Dugan, last man in line, sighed a little impatiently. He'd been patiently waiting his chance to meet the beautiful blonde with the wide eyes and the sweet smile, and now she and Morita were gettin' into a chat about California. He nudged Morita, not very politely.
"Give a fella a chance, Jim!"
"Dream on, Dum Dum, this lady's out of your league," Jim nudged him back with a snort, but he did move on, as Angie laughed shyly, a clear, soft sound.
"Any friend of Miss Union Jack is likely well out of my league," Dugan agreed with a grin, "won't stop me tryin', though."
Angie's big blue eyes widened even further, her lips parted on an O. And then she let out a squeal of delight, and to Dugan's astonishment, stepped forward and reached up to throw her arms around his neck.
"I knew it! I knew it had to be her!"
"My God, it's you," Dugan said, awed, gazing down at Angie smiling up at him, her eyes shining like stars.
"Miss Union Jack, indeed," Angie giggled, "I knew it had to be Peggy. Who else could it possibly be?"
"So that was why she was so determined to befriend me," Peggy said, enlightened, as Dugan held Angie close, gazing spellbound into her eyes.
"I'm sure it was your winning personality, Miss Carter," Jarvis replied, and she shot him a withering look.
"Well, I'm happy for them both. Come on, let's leave them alone."
"No," Dugan managed to tear his gaze from Angie's, "I heard my girl sayin' she wanted to go out dancin'. So dancing she shall get."
Angie stared up at him adoringly. He was taller than her by a good six inches, massively broad-shouldered, thick curly blond hair and eyes bluer than the sky – and a finely groomed blond moustache. He was smiling down at her happily, a strong arm curved around her waist to hold her close.
"Your name isn't really Dum Dum, is it?" she asked.
"Tim," he admitted.
"That's good. I'd feel a bit of a fool shoutin' Dum Dum when I want to call you down to dinner."
"Can you cook?" he asked hopefully.
"I'll have you know I'm Italian, Tim," her voice softened on his name, and he had to fight down the urge to kiss her right here in front of all the others. "You haven't lived until you've tasted my cannoli."
"I can vouch for that," Peggy put in with a smile. "You're a very lucky man, Dum Dum."
"I certainly am," a big, callused hand came up to lightly cup Angie's soft cheek. "The luckiest guy in the world."