#annette hanshaw
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justbusterkeaton · 5 months ago
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Music: Ain’t He Sweet by Annette Hanshaw
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missanthropicprinciple · 4 days ago
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missing you // A Little Princess 1995 | lyrics from "Daddy Won't You Please Come Home" performed by Annette Hanshaw, composed by Sam Coslow, 1929 | art from The High Hills by Jill Barklem | quote from Jim Valvano | The Fighting Temeraire tugged to her last berth to be broken up 1838 painting by J. M. W. Turner, 1839 | The Shining Streets of London by Alfred Noyes | Pour Monsieur Concentree Chanel for men | My thoughts cannot move an inch without bumping into some piece of you. -j.a. | wood plane | how to fill cracks in wood | Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon | In Memoriam A. H. H. by Alfred, Lord Tennyson | The Floor (1993) by Giorgos Rorris (b. 1963)
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ask-emma-the-cat · 8 days ago
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Annette Hanshaw - We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye (1932)
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lesser-mook · 2 months ago
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Daddy Won't You Please Come Home
This game is good #Recommended #Bioshock2 Where some see propaganda in Bioshock, I see a warning and a good use of a few hours in between the grind.🎮
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mr-e-gallery · 1 year ago
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Mr. E Gallery Edmond Simpson Digital Collage Art 2023 vol 6
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oldshowbiz · 2 years ago
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Early jazz singer Annette Hanshaw
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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 2 years ago
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In This Heart Mix Tape: Side A 
Two souls, forever bound in the multiverse. (Tommy Shelby x OFC! Estella Holland)
In This Heart by Sinéad O’Connor 
Red Right Hand by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
Sparkling Diamonds - From “Moulin Rouge” by Nicole Kidman
Work Song by Hozier
Why Don’t You Do Right? by Amy Irving and Charles Fleischer
One Day I’ll Fly Away - Acoustic by Vaults
I Wanna Be Loved By You by Annette Hanshaw
Merrily Kissed The Quaker by Planxty
Cheek To Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine
Morrison’s Jig by Orthodox Celts
He Moved Through the Fair by Sinéad O’Connor
Swan Upon Leda by Hozier
An Irish Party in Third Class by Gaelic Storm
Brigg Fair by Jackie Oates 
The Wind That Shakes the Barley by Dead Can Dance
Return to Me by October Project
I Know You Know Me by Caroline Spence and Matt Berninger
Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine
I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger by Joe Slovick
Nostalgia - Wallander Version by Emily Barker and The Red Clay Halo
The Only Exception by Paramore
Take Me to Church by Hozier
Queen Of Peace by Florence + The Machine
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zeldasminion · 2 years ago
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ariel-seagull-wings · 6 months ago
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@a-roguish-gambit
[ Love Me Tonight // Annette Hanshaw ]
Life is so uncertain and no one seems to know How long we have to linger on Tomorrow we may both be gone Love me tonight Oh let me feel your arms And let me feel your kiss Then if this great big world must end Oh let it end like this My lips are yours forever, my heart is in your hand My love is yours to have, to hold Don’t wait until the moon is old Love me tonight.
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ask-emma-the-cat · 5 days ago
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I've Got a Feeling I'm Falling
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alteregozowie · 2 months ago
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🎶 "You wouldn't fooooool me, would yaaaa? You shouldn't foooool me, should ya? Could ya be true now, coooooould ya?" 🎶
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ariel-seagull-wings · 6 months ago
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@a-roguish-gambit
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fictionkinfessions · 1 year ago
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Heaven is real and it’s finding a Spotify playlist with all the vintage songs that played in Rapture and listening to it on loop for three hours :3 it’s not my fault music peaked with Daddy Won’t You Please Come Home by Annette Hanshaw!!!!
-A Little Sister who misses Rapture a whole lot
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ariel-seagull-wings · 6 months ago
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@a-roguish-gambit
It’s the Sunday sunshine.
Who’s That Knocking At My Door by Annette Hanshaw
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bloody-peach · 8 months ago
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Just a lil idea I thought up. Planning to use it for my upcoming longfic series. Demiromantic Alastor for life, baby. Red text is Alastor, obvs.
The song in question: Annette Hanshaw's "What Wouldn't I Do for That Man" (it's on YouTube, go listen and read along!)
Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @pinkhimecat @moths-and-mantids @neonvehk and other Alastor lovers!
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So it's a Friday night, everyone was out partying, but you were staying in your room at the Hazbin Hotel, listening to the radio.
You heard the radio buzz on and you heard Alastor's voice on the radio.
You always loved whenever he came on, you'd listen to the classic tunes he'd play from the 1920s-1930s and you'd relax and let your mind wander.
You hear his voice on the radio, as calm and soothing as ever.
"Good evening, denizens of Hell. I hope you are all enjoying this lovely night. Now I have a special song for all of you lovers and dreamers out there. Annette Hanshaw's 'What Wouldn't I Do for That Man?'. And to that certain someone out there, (you know who you are), this one is for you, my dear."
You didn't hear that last sentence as you let the intro music take your mind to a different place, a place where you were with someone you adored and who adored you just as much, almost like a romance film. You couldn't help but sing along.
"Love was blind to me
Now it's kind to me
Love has opened my eyes
Since it came to me
Life's a game to me
With the sweetest surprise
I never knew how good it was to be
A slave to one who means the world to me"
You stand up, close your eyes and start to dance around the room, your feet moving with the beat and your body swaying to the tune as your voice matched up with the singer's.
"I loved that man from the start
And way down deep in his heart
I know he loves me, Heaven knows why
And when he tells me he can't live without me
What wouldn't I do for that man"
You imagined someone dancing with you, that anonymous stranger in your mind. You could almost feel their hands on you, their arm around your waist.
What you didn't know was....somebody was.
Alastor had let his shadow go through the radio into your room to have a dance with you. It effortlessly guided your steps, avoiding furniture so you can daydream without interruption.
You didn't even notice as you kept dancing and singing.
"He's not an angel or saint
And what's the odds if he ain't
With all his faults I know he'll get by
I'll be so true to him he'll never doubt me
What wouldn't I do for that man"
At the radio station, Alastor's mind was also wandering, wondering what you were up to. He wondered if you could hear the song he chose specifically for you. He hummed along to the tune as he found himself imagining what it would be like to dance with you, to have you in his arms. He could hear your voice singing this very song, a warm and soft voice like the coo of a dove. He smiled to himself, feeling that warm feeling in his chest whenever you came to mind. Usually, he'd be confused by it, but just for this one moment, he would stop fighting and let the feeling flow. For you.
"Oh when he lets me lean my weary head on his shoulder
I close my eyes right there and wish I never grow older"
Back to you, you could smell the faint hint of roses as you continued your dance. It let you sink deeper into your daydream, seeing yourself dancing with the stranger in a rose garden.
"I'll never leave him alone
I'll make his troubles my own
I love that man as nobody can
I'm just no good when his arms are about me
What wouldn't I do for that man
Oh what wouldn't I do for that man"
You felt a hand in your own, an arm around your waist as you swayed to the music. You didn't even notice Alastor's shadow letting you twirl and pulling you into its arms, wrapping them around your waist, your back to its chest. As the dance continued, you continued to sing,
"I'll never leave him alone
I'll make his troubles my own
I love that man better than I do myself
I'm just no good when his arms are about me
What wouldn't do for that man
Oh there's not a thing I wouldn't do for my man"
Just as the song was finished, you could almost feel that stranger's hand delicately hold the back of your head.
Then you felt the sensation of being kissed on the lips in reality, snapping you out of your fantasy, your eyes shooting wide open in surprise.
Then that sensation faded away and you fell onto the antique chaise, your face holding that same stunned expression as you touch your lips.
'What was that...?' You thought to yourself.
Alastor's shadow quickly retreated back to the radio before you could notice. Once it returned to its owner, it received a bonk on the head from Alastor's staff, along with the comment, "Cheeky little thing, aren't you?"
That's all!
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cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 year ago
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At the Cabaret Pt. 1 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character
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Summary: Lenore is a dancer at the Birmingham Cabaret when she's approached by an estranged neighbor and notorious gangster, Tommy Shelby, with a business prospect. Seeing him again brings up old feelings and new conflicts that they must navigate in the topsy turvy world of Cabaret.
Warnings: Heavy misogyny (1920s Cabaret... I mean), mentions of sexual assault, and objectification. Please don't read if these topics are upsetting to you- I'm writing from a historical perspective and some of the elements I write about are disturbing. Take care while reading. This story only gets worse from here lol. I use a few modern songs in the story but imagine them in a 1920s style (aka Post Modern Jukebox). I really recommend listening to the songs I have listed below because I reference them in the story.
word count: 4125k
Come with me- Preservation Hall Jazz Band 🎶
Ain't That a Grand and Glorious Feeling? - Annette Hanshaw 🎵
Last Nite- The Strokes 🎶
PDA- Interpol 🎵
Not proofed- my b folks!
She felt powerful when she stepped on stage. She felt untouchable. She performed five days a week at Birmingham’s Cabaret Club during the late night slot when the wealthiest clientele slipped in through the backdoor to huddle around the stage. She was lucky that her life had ended up like this and not working the streets like so many girls she knew had to after the war years. She tried to get them jobs in the Cabaret but their addictions to uppers and downers and strong cocktails made it hard for them to follow the routine of Cabaret. It required discipline to arrive at the club everyday at three in the afternoon and work new routines until the doors opened at eight, and they worked hard. She wasn’t an especially good dancer but her energy and confidence on stage won her the best slot of the night and the notoriety that nicknamed her “Lady Lenore.” 
Her shows were sensual, sure, but mainly they were performances. She sang and sparkled onstage with her elaborate costumes. And sure, men often followed her backstage, seeking an encore in not so polite terms but she was the master of her own image. She was allowed to say no when she wanted to because she was “Lady Lenore.” She wasn’t a stranger to male guests coming by to visit her at night and many times, she allowed them to join her in her dressing room shared with the other performers, offering him whisky and resting her feathered head against his chest. But these were the boys she recognized from the factories her father had worked in, that her brothers had worked in before the war. She flirted with the rich cats who came by to seduce her but only the boys with coal grease still stuck in the curves of their muscles made it farther into the reaches of her corseted costume. She had a preference and she didn’t care who knew it. 
What won her fame, besides her voice, were her costumes. The early twenties offered an exciting new spread of style that she latched onto like Vicodin. She loved red, so she dyed most of her costumes a deep scarlet with millions of beads sewn onto the surface. She pulled on the red bodysuit, fixing the ropes of red beads draped around her shoulders and bare thighs. She didn’t have large breasts so the front stuck tightly to her chest but elegant bodice distracted disappointed eyes. Her blonde hair was bobbed around her heart-shaped face. Lucy, one of her friends, secured the devil cap on her head, the strap going beneath her chin. The horns were stuffed with couch stuffing to stand up straight. She under-drew her lips, creating a heart with red lipstick. The rest of her makeup was minimal, making the lipstick stand out. She buckled her nude-colored dancing heels across the top of her foot and shook out her arms nervously. 
She could hear the announcer out on stage with his squeaky voice. She pulled on her red satin gloves and made her way slowly to the curtains offstage waiting for her cue. Johnny the club manager squealed, “and now, the girl you’ve been waiting for, the queen of our hearts and the sweetheart of Birmingham, Lady Lenore!” He ran off stage and a spot opened against the curtain. 
She lifted her lips into an innocent smile and stuck her arm out through the slit in the red velvet curtain. She trailed her finger down the fabric, teasing the slit beneath the hot spotlight. The audience cheered loudly, feet stomping on the bar floor. 
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“Aw come on out, darlin!” A man hollered from the audience and she laughed quietly behind the heavy fabric. Whistles followed his brave shout and she shook her finger naughtily at them, still obscured by the curtain. 
“Now, now boys. That’s no way to ask a lady. I was gonna be real nice to you tonight, and I mean real nice.” The men whistled again and slammed their hands on the drinking tables. 
“Please, honey!” 
“Come on, love!” 
She slipped her arms back behind the curtain and giggled.
“Oh, boys! You really do know how to make a girl feel so good!” She squealed, “open the curtain, Johnny!” 
The curtain swung open on its tracks and she placed her hands on her accented hips. Her bare thighs warmed under the hot spot. She switched into her Lady Lenore facade, apologizing raspily, “sorry about that boys, I was a bit nervous.” 
Men howled in the audience and stood to whistle. She put a dramatic finger to her lips, biting it gently. 
“Gee, thanks. Now let me show you what I can really do.” She chuckled darkly and nodded to the band beside the stage. “Hit it, honey.” She called with a smile. A ragtime track began and she twirled, pulling the hair from her shoulders to show off the back of the costume, her butt just peeking out beneath the underwear-like bodice. She strutted across the stage with a flick of her leg, turning into a jumpy great-vine, tap dancing without the loud clacks. She reached out her gloved hand to the audience and gasped when the music jumped, smirking as she took quick steps backwards. She did the same to the otherside, each action dominated by the sexual squeal of the trumpet. She took slow steps downstage to the drum beat and lowered herself slowly to her knees, playing with her long strand of pearls. 
“I just feel so good tonight,” she bit her lip and shook her shoulders and lay back, still on her knees, her sparkly crotch exposed to the roar of the crowd. When a man wolf-whistled she sat back up quickly, an innocent smile pulling at her painted lips. “Oops!” She giggled and crawled forward on her hands and knees. She reached the end of the stage and swung her legs over gracefully. She went over to the fat cat at the first table and stroked his long white beard. 
“Say, you look like a good boy,” She purred and sat abruptly on his lap, “now what do you want for Christmas? Or more importantly what do I want?” She pouted out her lip, thinking. The men in the audience laughed. 
“Anything you’d like sweetheart.” The man chuckled and she smiled. 
“Ohh, Daddy! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear! But say, aren’t you gonna ask me if I’ve been a good girl?”
“Well, have you?” 
“Hmm, one second, Daddy,” She stood up from his lap and cleared her throat loudly. “Do you boys think I've been a good girl?” She asked the room and smiled when she received stomps and applause. “And do you think I should get anything I want?” She added, biting her lip. 
“You’re all I want, love!” One man yelled from the bar and she clutched her heart. 
“That’s the right answer, boy!” She called back and laughed, returning to the lit stage. A microphone had been set up centerstage while she was in the audience. She shimmied up to the microphone. 
“Y’all ever been to New Orleans?” She quipped in her best southern accent and winked at the band who burst into, “Come with Me.”
A line of feathered dancers came out onto stage, flirting with the audience with their scandalous dance fan dance. 
Come with me to New Orleans
I'll show you a great time
All your dreams will come true
A' With me by your side
Her raspy voice echoed out into the small club. She scanned the crowd, her fingers cupping the wide microphone. The men in the crowd smoked cigarettes and cigars, separating them by class and income. The day-laborers sat with crushed cigarettes in ashtrays while the fat cats still smoked the same cigar they had light when the night began. 
So
Come with me to the' New Orleans
I'll show you a great time
All your dreams will come true
A' With me by your side 
She smiled as she sang, looking down at the audience through her eyelashes. She adjusted her red velvet garter, her fingers trailing up the fabric on her crotch to her stomach. The dancers behind her dipped their fans to show their cleavage. 
Come with me to New Orleans
I'll show you a great time
All your dreams will come true
A' With me by your side
She finished the song with a low voice and the audience roared once again. She took an extra fan from one of the dancers and held it in front of her body. With the large fan, she did look naked, tricking those who were drunk in the audience to believe she was nude like a game of peek-a-boo. “Ain't that Grand and Glorious” marked the beginning of a new musical number and she started singing, traveling to either end of the stage. She moved her fan to her back like a peacock, pushing what cleavage she did have forward with her arms. 
Now is there any one present
Who was ever in love
If it’s so you know how
I’m feeling right now
Everything is so pleasant
She broke out into a brief timestep combination and moved the fan to her chest, just showing her legs and face. 
You’re so full of bliss
You just feel like knocking wood
She planted and shook her hips to the knocking noise. 
And when you naturally say yes
Ain’t that a grand and glorious feeling! 
She spun around and planted the fan on the top of her butt, bending over to show off her ass to the audience who cheered. She spun again and did a quick Cincinnati step during the instrumental break. 
I’ve got something to say 
When that band starts to play
She raised the fan above her head, showing off her costume once again, as everyone in the room sang the last line with her: 
I get a grand and glorious feeling
“That’s all!” She smiled and the spot went out. She hurried off-stage with the others and ducked into her dressing room, returning hugs and hollow laughs with the other girls.
“You were wonderful, Nore!” A dancer hugged her around her stiff waist and she let out a repressed breath. 
“Thank you, thank you. Gee, I’m happy it's over with. Father Christmas in the front row got a little too excited if you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes and the girls laughed. Clara patted her on the back and slipped through the dressing room door to go on with the following act. 
“Break a leg, Clara babes!” She teased warmly and she tittered her thanks. They could hear the crowd grow impatient as they waited for the next round of entertainment. She sat down at her place at the makeup counter and removed the horned cap from her head. Lucy slipped into the dressing room, closing it quietly behind her so the sound wouldn’t carry onstage. 
“Nore, great job as always.” She sat beside her and intertwined her fingers with Nore’s. The dancers switched their tops and bottoms, each barely covering anything of their anatomy. 
“Thanks, Luce.” She wiggled in her seat and slid the large rings off her fingers and put them in her pink jewelry box. 
“Johnny wanted me to tell you that there’s a fella in the audience that wants to see you.” Lucy grimaced. 
“I have another show tonight, I can’t.” She sighed and fixed her lipstick. 
“He said it’s important.” 
“He always says that.” She laughed curtly. 
“Sure but I think he means it this time, Nore. I would do it.” 
“Why? Is it a cat?” She raised her eyebrow at Lucy and frowned, “He is isn’t he?” 
“It's Thomas Shelby, Nore.” She whispered close to Nore’s ear and sat back again, biting her lip anxiously. 
Her heart fell into her stomach and she looked at Lucy through the mirror for a moment. She cleared her throat and looked down at her red gloves. 
“So? He doesn’t own me,” She tried to sound brave. 
“No, but he owns half of Birmingham.” Lucy retorted and started again, “and besides, he used to be a factory boy, you remember don’t you? He used to live on our street!”
“That was before the war, Lucy. He’s changed since then. We all have.” 
“Wasn’t your brother friends with Thommy?” She asked carefully, not wanting open old wounds.
“Like I said, Luce, we’ve all changed. I haven’t spoken to her in ages. The war was hard on everyone, even the Shelbys.” She sighed. Lucy looked down at her naked thighs pressed against the chair and took in a deep breath. 
“You’ll do it though, won’t you?” 
“If I don’t have a choice…” She shrugged and stared at herself in the mirror, “then I guess I will. Help me out of this corset, won’t you please?” She stood and Lucy undid the tough clasps on the back that insured the piece wouldn’t fly open during the act, no matter how many hands probed it. She shrugged the top off, her breasts sitting back against her chest. She put on the white satin bra and short set laid out for her second performance. She rolled on her stockings and clipped them into her garters to keep them from falling down. Lucy fastened a tulle train onto the back of her shorts and fixed the edges. She buckled her heels and fit the glitzy headband around her forehead. Someone switched her pearls for a necklace with small gold stars, and her red gloves for blush pink. She brushed a little kohl behind her eyes and sprayed herself with perfume, sticky and sweet. 
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Her second number was more choreographed and started like this:
She and the dancers entered with chairs. The chairs were arranged with her on center stage. The audience applauded and whooped and the girls smiled as brightly as they could beneath the white hot spot. “Last Nite” strikes up with the jumpy stutter of piano. It was a straight-forward dance. The hardest part was singing as she moved, bicycle-kicking her legs above her head in the chair. She abandoned the chair half-way through the song and scat at the microphone, accompanied by the instrumental riff. 
They don’t understand
No, girlfriends, they won’t understand
A cheer went up from the crowd, beer spilling from raised glasses. 
Last night he said
“Oh, baby, I feel so down”
“And it’s turnin’ me off when I feel left out”
So I, turned around
She turned slowly, kicking the tulle train back out as she did with her heel. Her arms were raised above her head, smiling wide. 
“Oh darling no care no more
I know this for sure, I’m walking out, I’m walking out that door
And ain’t gonna understand
She winked and blew kisses to the growing crowd in the audience. She scanned the faces at the tables for Peaky Blinders. Then she saw the tell-tale peaky cap pulled down over his face. She couldn’t see his face in the darkened house but the way his table was separated from the rest in the club, and completely empty save the man sitting there with Irish Whisky told her enough. The crowd’s applause came to an end and she snapped back into character, curseying and raising her hand to the band. 
“Thank you!” She twirled once more to show off her ensemble and curled her finger at Johnny who was still standing off stage. 
“Oh, Johnny!” She called him out on stage and when he waddled over she put her chin on his shoulder, “Get these wonderful men a drink huh?” She smiled innocently. The crowd exploded with hoots and hollers. “That’s for making me meet with Shelby without asking me first, Johnny.” She growled beneath her breath and smiled at the crowd, “sweet dreams, boys!” The men waved from the audience and the girls scurried off stage. 
She was too distracted to speak to anyone right after the show. She went straight to the dressing room and removed the tulle train from her shorts, grimacing as she did though it caused her no pain. Tommy was too smart to fall for her Lady Lenore act and she silently cursed herself for making the character such a staple of her success. He would be able to see through her confidence to her fear wallowing in her eyes. Some of the girls helped her quickly slip into a blush pink dress, the drop waist brushing against her hips. She changed into her normal heels, shiny black mary janes, and pulled off her headband. She left the star necklace around her neck but removed the gloves and extra jewelry. Lucy wiped off her bright red lipstick, changing it for a more casual color. One of the younger girls, Lily, ran in and called for her. 
“Nore, Johnny said to take the spare dressing room.” 
“Got it, thanks.” She nodded and exhaled loudly, pushing air through her nose. “He has everything fucking planned out,” she cursed below her breath. “Is he going to undress me for him too?” She grumbled and wiped kohl fallout from beneath her eyes. 
“He may not want that.” Lucy offered. 
“That’s what men always want, Luce.” She responded and sighed. With one last smile, she opened the door into an adjoining room called the spare dressing room. It was called that but it had never been one. There was a bed against the back wall with wood bed-frame and carved posts. The bed was dressed with clean sheets everyday and draped with a heavy red quilt to keep out the December cold. This was the nicest room out of the lot and it was reserved for our best clientele. A table and chairs separated the bed from the main door to the hallway. A bar cart sat idly against the side wall, stocked with cheap liqueur and towels. On the opposite side was a lounge in dark red fabric to hide stains. The wood floors were cold without the heaters and she could feel the chill even through her heels. She perched herself on the arm of the lounge and settled, waiting for Tommy Shelby to arrive. 
He didn’t know when he came in, he wasn’t worried if he happened to walk in on anyone, and he just didn’t care. He avoided her eyes as he stepped into the room and closed the door, loud voices carried down the hallway like the smell of cigarette smoke. When the door was firmly closed behind him, he finally caught her eyes.  
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“Hello Mr. Shelby.” She didn’t move to stand.
“Miss Panning,” he gave her a curt nod, “or shall I call you Lady Lenore?”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Miss Panning unless you’d prefer to call me Lady Lenore.”
“Well Miss Panning,” he walked to the table and lit a cigarette, dropping the lighter and cigarette case on the table, “I’m sorry for disturbing your evening.” He gestured loosely to the direction of the stage, talking around the cigarette. 
She sighed and stood, taking a cigarette that Tommy offered out to her. She held the cigarette between her lips as he flicked open the lighter and the cigarette caught. “Did you like my performance, Mr. Shelby.” She smiled, blowing out the smoke. He looked down at his shoes and exhaled a cloud of heavy gray smoke, his hands in his pockets. When he looked up his smile was pained, his brows furrowed. 
“Eh, not really my thing.” 
“Mmm of course. From what I’ve heard you like it quick and dirty. You’re not one for a performance, are you?” She teased darkly and moved to the bed, sitting at the end. He watched her, his eyes calm and unfazed. She flicked the ash of her cigarette to the floor and crossed her legs, the slit in her dress showing her thigh. He stared at her thigh, puffing on his cigarette.
“What do you want, Mr. Shelby?” She asked him bravely. He tore his eyes from her exposed leg and  looked into her eyes. Exhaling and pulling the cigarette from his lips he rubbed his thumb across his thick lips.
“I want us to be friends, Nore.” He said finally, his voice restrained, holding back a layer of information he wouldn’t easily give up. 
“I’m Nore now?” She almost sneered. 
“We were neighbors once if you remember.” 
“Those days are far behind us now, Mr. Shelby.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at the ground. 
“Tommy.” He inclined his head slightly and stubbed out his cigarette. “And maybe they are but that doesn’t mean we can’t become friends again now, does it? 
He’d said something like that years before when she was fifteen, he was seventeen, and best friends with her brother. Her brother told him that she had a huge crush on him and he’d treated her kindly, offering to be her friend, though nothing more. Hearing him now brought her back to that moment in the alley between their houses, ducking beneath the laundry lines. He’d told her that maybe when she was older… but he went to war and never came back the same. He hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to her since, plagued by guilt. She’d lost her brother in the war. 
“Why do you want to be friends, Tommy?” She asked slowly, fighting the images of her brother that entered her mind when she looked at him. 
He lit another cigarette and pulled it from his lips. 
“I think we can help each other.” 
“Oh?” She switched legs, letting the fabric slide slowly over her skin. He watched, his jaw clenched, in what she read as distaste.
“I need someone who’s willing to be my eyes and ears inside this club. I know Billy Kimber and his men meet here.” 
“Does this job require more than ‘eyes’ and ‘ears,’ Tommy?” She looked down at her cigarette. 
“It would require anything that gets them comfortable to talk to you, you can fill in the rest.” He looked over at the whiskey. “Whisky?” He asked and she nodded. 
“Yes, please.” 
He took two thick crystal glasses from the cart and poured. He rounded the table to hand her a glass and she took it, looking up into his blue eyes. He took a deep drink from the whiskey and sighed. She drank and swirled the caramel liquor around in the glass. 
“You know, Tommy, I don’t sleep with all of my clientele. Believe it or not but I prefer working boys over men like Kimber. I’m still a Small Heath girl, Tommy. That’ll never change, no matter how many rich men come in here promising me globs money in return for a quick fuck.”
He looked down at his shoes and nodded, thinking. He downed the rest of the whisky and cleared his throat. 
“Will you do it?” He asked. 
“What do I get in return?” She sighed. 
“Money and protection, of course.” He put his glass on the table and leaned against it, sucking on his cigarette. 
“Anything else?” She smiled softly.
He looked at her, expressionless, trying to determine what she wanted from him.
“What else would you like, Lenore?” He asked softly. 
She swallowed the rest of her whiskey and smiled sweetly at him, taking from her character. 
“Well, if we’re really to be friends, I want you to come to my shows.” She stood and reached around his waist to the ashtray and stubbed out her cigarette, looking directly in his eyes. 
“And besides,” she continued softly, “men like nothing more than competition. If Kimber learns that you fancy me, he’ll do whatever he can to get with me.” 
She took a step back and took a second cigarette from Tommy’s breast pocket. He lit it for her without a word. 
“Alright,” he nodded, his face unchanging, “anything else?” 
Her eyes softened and she fought back weak tears.
“Look after my father, Tommy. Make sure he’s safe too. If not for this, for James.” The mention of her brother stilled something in him. He nodded and cleared his throat. He turned and walked to the door to the hallway. 
“Tommy,” she called from the bed. He paused with his hand resting on the door handle, “you know he’s going to kill me before they tell me anything you want to hear.” She said softly, almost sadly. 
He said nothing for a moment and inhaled, looking over his shoulder though his eyes didn’t meet hers.
“I won’t let that happen.” He said evenly and left, the door closing loudly behind him. She tried to still her shaky hands, dragging on the shrinking cigarette.
_______
end part 1 here :)
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