Burned Bridges
By Shotzette




"Burned Bridges"
By Shotzette
Rated R



This is a work of fanfiction only and is not intended to infringe upon anyone's copyrights or intellectual properties. I do this for fun, damnit!




Lenny awoke with a start, his neck aching from the angle at which he had fallen asleep in the chair. He groaned as he stretched and his eyes fell upon the battered clock on the concrete blocks next to his chair. Six AM. Immediately alert, he bolted to his feet. Six in the morning and no Laverne. She never showed up like Shirley promised she would.

The guilt that pricked his conscience the night before returned and washed over him like a tidal wave. He had hurt her. On purpose. In all of his years, Lenny Kosnowski had never set out to hurt anyone before. Especially not a girl. Especially not Laverne.

Her face flashed in front of his eyes, her expression horrified and eyes full of pain. Shame galvanized him. He needed to fix this, to apologize to her and beg her forgiveness. He'd never felt so low and rotten in his whole life.

He stopped at his door. What could he say to her? Somehow, last night's "just-kidding-I-didn't-screw-your-best-friend" didn't sound as good in the cold light of dawn. He glanced briefly at the bedroom door, and immediately ruled out Squiggy's advice. As much as Squiggy knew about women, something about him always made Laverne cranky. Lenny knew he was in enough trouble as is without bringing Squiggy into the picture. Besides, he thought to himself angrily, if Squiggy had kept his yap shut around Shirley, she never would have known about Lenny's crush on Laverne.

Lenny thought about asking Shirley, but didn't want to be a pest. After all, she'd gone to so much trouble helping him the night before. Besides, Shirley was Laverne's friend first. Who knows, maybe Shirley had even changed her mind and didn't think he was worthy of Laverne anymore?

All of a sudden, it was like a light bulb went off in Lenny's head, and he smiled broadly.

Carmine.

Carmine always knew what to say to girls. Lenny had always envied Carmine's ease in attracting women. During Carmine's ten year on and off relationship with Shirley, Lenny had seen the parade of beautiful women leaving Carmine's apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Must be nice, Lenny thought wistfully, before Laverne's pain-stricken face flashed before his eyes again and filling him with shame.

Focusing on the task at hand, Lenny rushed out his front door and up the stairs to Carmine's apartment. Lenny was rounding the curve on the stairwell when he saw them.

Laverne and Carmine. Kissing.

Lenny jumped back around the corner and flattened himself alongside the wall in the maintenance alcove. He held his breath and tried to forget the image that was now indelibly burned into his brain. He heard footsteps and pressed himself even closer to the wall. As Laverne passed by him, the heady musk odor trailing behind her left no doubt about her activities the night before. Lenny waited until he heard her apartment door close three flights below before he allowed himself to sink to the ground as hot tears coursed down his cheeks.


*****


They drove in silence. Shirley cast a sidelong glance at Laverne Laverne looked awful, she reflected, as she saw Laverne's bloodshot eyes and puffy face. When Laverne asked her to go out and start the car, Shirley assumed she would use the extra minutes to slap on some makeup and fix herself up a bit. Another quick peek confirmed that Laverne looked even worse now than she had when she angrily stormed into their apartment wearing Terri Buttafucco's brother's shirt.

Shirley had apologized. Laverne had apologized earlier that week. Everything should be okay. In the silent car on that cold morning, Shirley knew that things weren't okay, and she didn't know why.

Stupid, Shirley cursed at herself. Why didn't you believe them? Your best friend and your boyfriend. They people you care about the most in this world, and frankly they're the people that care the most about you. They said it was over three years ago, and things never went beyond a few kisses. Why can't you let it go?

Then why did they lie? Why didn't they tell you three years ago? She looked to her right, to her best friend of twenty years for support, for answers, for...anything.

Laverne just stared stonily ahead.


*****

Lenny's tired fingers gripped the rim of the bowl, as he felt the convulsions start again. As bad as the vomiting was, he realized as he flushed the toilet for the seemingly hundreth time in the last hour, it was the high point of his day. He had stayed up half the night waiting to comfort the girl of his dreams, only to see the--his mind spat out the bitter word his lips couldn't yet form--slut prance out of Carmine's apartment in the early hours.

Another wave of nausea overtook him. How could she? How could Carmine cheat on Shirley? How could Laverne hurt her best friend that way? The pain hit him anew, and the taste of his tears replaced bile. Laverne had never loved him, he knew that now. It probably had been a lie she and Carmine had made up to keep Shirley in the dark. Idiot, he cursed himself. Why would Laverne ever be interested in a loser like him when she had all those other guys and Carmine at her beck and call? Why would she give a jerk like him a second glance? Dirty tramp. Lenny's sobs overtook him as he knelt on the grimy bathroom floor and clung to the toilet as if it were a life raft. Vaguely, he became aware of loud noises in the apartment then felt himself being pulled across the bathroom and out of his own filth.

"What the hell are you doing?" Squiggy's voice shouted in his ear. Using the last of his strength, Lenny forced open his eyelids then winced at the dual vision of the harsh fluorescent bathroom light and his roommate's angry face. "Goddamn it! I make a solo run to Osh Kosh last night, and I come back to find you fired!"

"Cry me a river, Squig. That sounds like a picnic next to what I been through."

"So you know about the shop steward reporting you to the union? You know that you're probably lose your teamster card? You know that I'm probably going to have to move back in with my drunken tramp of a mother since I won't be able to keep living hear without you paying your three quarters of the rent every month?"

"That crap doesn't matter, no more!" Lenny shoved his friend's hands away and tried to sit up against the side of the bathtub. "Nothing matters no more!" he sobbed.

"What? Is the world coming to an end? Are we having another Bay of Figs? What's gotten into you?"

"Laverne..."

"Oh. You heard about Laverne and Carmine and you's all bereaved. Well, you getting fired and them are all anyone at the brewery is talking about."

Lenny sniffed a tear away and drew his hand across his wet face. "Great," he replied grimly, "everyone knows now."

"You bet they do. That's all folks can talk about. They're crowding around Shirley like she's a widow with an insurance check."

Lenny groaned. "Poor Shirley! I didn't even think about how much this must have ripped her dainty little guts out!"

"Yeah. She was pretty upset when she told me about Laverne and Carmine yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah. That's when I told her that you was all hot and bothered by Laverne. Ow! You just punched me in my good shirt! What gives? Shirley gave me a nickel after all..."

"When? When did Shirley tell you about Carmine and Laverne yesterday?" A dark and horrible scenario was forming in Lenny's mind. With all his heart he wished that Squiggy wasn't about to say what he knew Squiggy would say.

"Early yesterday night. Before I left for Osh Kosh. Y'know they got a diner right off the interstate that has this waitress with the biggest--"

"Forget about the damn waitress, Squiggy!"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't see her humungous--"

"I'm serious over here! Did Shirley tell you before she met me at the bar?"

Squiggy rolled his eyes. "Of course she told me before meeting you at the bar. How do you think she knew where to find you?"

Lenny's nausea returned with a vengeance.


*****


Carmine Ragusa carefully counted out the bills in the envelope, one twenty, four tens, and five fives. He turned and smiled gratfully at Edna Babish's closed apartment door. He knew Mrs. Babish had given him his full security deposit out of the goodness of her heart. He'd always considered himself a good tenant, but the recent cracked window and new cracks in the plaster were evidence to the contrary. Her eyes had been suspiciously bright when he turned in his one week's notice on his apartment. Still, Mrs. B understood better than anyone the policy of live and let live. She had given him a hug, well wishes for the future, and permission for him to use her as a reference. He would miss her.

But, there were more things about Knapp Street that he wouldn't miss, and one of them was walking right up the stairs towards him. Lenny Kosnowski glared at him with unadaulterated hatred in his eyes. As his mouth began to open, Carmine didn't know in either apology or condemnation, Carmine felt the coiled spring that had taken up residence in his gut since Laverne had left his arms, snap. Before he knew it, Carmine leapt over the six stairs below him and knocked Lenny down the next five and onto the landing. The larger man landed on his back with a dull thud, his arms instantly up for protection. All rationale and any concept of fairness left Carmine's consciousness at that moment. Blindly, he began striking Lenny with his fists for all that he was worth. He saw Lenny's face, as if through a red haze, contort in pain. His opponent's-- victim's weakness only enraged Carmine further.

"Never could fight like a man, could you, Len? You can't get a girl on your own so you team up with a lying, conniving bitch to trick Laverne into being with you! Nutless coward!" As though from a great distance, Carmine could hear Lenny's cries of pain. It was like watching some other guy in a movie pound the living crap out of somebody. Carmine watched, with an eerie detachment and Lenny squirmed under his hands, not caring how much he could hurt him. A loud cracking noise broke through the fog as Lenny's nose seemed to explode in front of him, staining his fists crimson.

Reality crashed in on Carmine as he rolled off of Lenny to come to rest sitting against the wall of the stairwell. His arms ached, and his lungs pounded within his chest. As he looked down at his blood stained hands, he was alarmed to find them still shaking. Carmine looked over at Lenny and felt a curious mixture of relief and disappointment that he could see the taller man's chest rise and fall, and hear the wheeze of his lungs.

With a groan, Carmine pushed himself up against the wall until he was standing. Before he took his first painful step towards his apartment, he heard a phlegmy cough behind him.

"Nothing...nothing happened between me and Shirley," Lenny mumbled, loudly gasping through his mouth.

Carmine didn't trust himself to turn around. "You idiot. This," he said, as a small amount of bile entered his mouth, "was for Laverne."


*****



Carmine stared into his bathroom mirror as he tried to recognize the reflection in front of him. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and new lines had formed on his face, giving him the haggard features of a man ten years older. He then returned his attention to the small bar of Ivory Soap in his hand and focused on scrubbing Lenny's blood off of his knuckles and rinsing out the white porcelain sink. He wished that he could rid himself of recent memories as easily.

The sound of the door to his apartment being flung open dragged him back to the here and now, and his attention to the very angry Shirley Feeney standing in front of him with a sheet of notepaper in her hand.

"How dare you!" She all but spat at him, and at that clarifying moment, he wondered how he had ever found her to be beautiful. "How dare you leave this visious *Dear Jane* letter under my door after what you did with Laverne."

Carmine closed his eyes and counted to ten and struggled to keep his cool. "I guess you didn't understand the *I never want to lay eyes on you again* part, did you? Or else, you wouldn't have been stupid enough to come here."

Shirley barrelled onward oblviously. "After what you and Laverne have been doing behind my back for God knows how long, where do you find the the nerve to break up with ME! In a note, for heaven's sake!"

"I left you the note because I didn't want to see you then, and I want to see you even less now. Get out."

"That's it? You're not even going to try to apologize for betraying my trust and breaking my heart? You cheated on me with the woman who I thought was my very best friend, Carmine. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does," he thundered, as he felt his patience start to slip away. "Laverne and I felt horribly guilty three years ago!"

"And rightfully so." Shirley lifted her chin smugly as she daintily sat down on his couch and looked like she was about to make herself at home.

Ignoring her remark, Carmine continued without skipping a beat. "Yes. We shouldn't have done what we did then," he said, glaring at her when she snorted in derision, "which was just kiss. And, we should have been honest about it and told you then and there."

Shirley looked at him expectantly, with her smug expression returning. "And the other night."

"All I regret about the other night is for taking so long to realize that I was throwing my life away on such a twisted little bitch." He allowed himself a moment to bask in the shock and horrified expression on his former-Angelface's face. "How could you do something like that to your best friend? How could the woman that I thought I was in love with do something so vicious and cruel?"

"How can you call me vicious and cruel when you...vodey-oh-doed with my so-called best friend? And don't believe for a minute that I'm still naive enough to think that all that went on between you and Laverne three years ago were a few kisses! I mean, I knew we were never exclusive, but at least you never waived your other tramps right under my nose."

Carmine clenched his fist angrily as he felt his temper start to gain control of his mouth. "When we were going out, Shirley, there was only you. The times we broke up were a different matter, and I've never owed you any sort of explanation for them. The only time I ever cheated on you was that one time, three years ago, and that made me feel so crummy, that I swore I'd never put myself in that position again."

Shirley's smile twisted, as her eyes hardened. "I'm sure you and Laverne explored a lot of positions together, hmmm?"

"Quit bad mouthing Laverne. She nearly broke her back trying to undue the damage she and I did three years ago, and you just spat in her face for payback. She's a better friend than you deserve, Shirley Feeney."

"Don't make me laugh so late in the afternoon, Carmine. Gee, I'm so lucky to have a best friend who'll jump on my boyfriend at the drop of a hat? Yeah, that Lavene's some prize."

"I said cut it out."

"You just don't get it, do you? Do you think Laverne wound up here with you by accident that night? Doesn't it strike you as odd that the first thing she did was to dash up here and cry on your big strong shoulder?"

Carmine replied coldly, "I'm not surprised at all. Where could she have gone? She was reeling in shock that her very best friend seduced the guy she wanted. The friend who's feelings she'd been trying to protect."

"How many punches did you take to the head in your boxing days, Carmine? Laverne came up here for what she's always been after, a few cheap and easy thrills. Not, that I believe for a moment, it was her first time up here." Shirley's smile twisted into a sneer. "Didn't it just eat you up to see her with all the men she's gone through in the last three years, Carmine? I'll bet all the times we double dated with Laverne and whatever Fleet was in town tore you all up inside? Did you ever harbor any illusions that she was faithful to you? Did you ever think that she maybe just kept you around as a secret steady in case she ever got into trouble? Did--" Shirley's next words cut off with a squeak as Carmine gripped her arms and shoved her against the wall of his apartment.

"Shut up," he said in a flat voice. "You just ain't right in the head, Shirley. I'm starting to think you never were. Get the hell out of my apartment, and let me pack my things in peace."

"Pack? You're leaving?"

"You always were such a bright girl." A dark part of Carmine enjoyed the flicker of pain across Shirley's face in response to his sarcasm. Good, let her hurt. Maybe the childish little brat would realize how much people had gone out of their way to protect her over the years. A tiny part of him wished he could stay and enjoy watching real life catch up to Shirley, but the rest of him couldn't get away from her fast enough.

"Ooh," Shirley purred maliciously, "Poor Laverne. Her lover leaves town and she's all alone. Until the next Fleet Week, of course."

"You're truly pathetic, y'know that? I can't believe I was dumb enough to jump through hoops for a little tease like you for years. I should have my head examined."

"No, Carmine. I'm the one who should have her head examined, for not realizing that you and Laverne were two peas in a pod. You're both completely untrustworthy liars. I'm just glad I saw you both for what you are before things went to far."

"Went to far? How could things go any further? We went out for nearly ten years and I never ever got under your bra! You would have kept me on a string, following you around like some stupid lapdog until you swapped me out for someone better. You're a user, Shirley. Why the hell couldn't I see that years ago?"

"You know what you are, Carmine? You're a philanderer! You're a playboy who'll never have an honest relationship with a decent woman. Mark my words, you are going to end up an old, penniless man without a wife, children, and grandchildren to love you. You are going to die alone!"

Carmine's eyes widened in shock as he listened to Shirley's hysterical rant. His next words held no rancor, merely amazement. "That's what's scares you most, isn't it, Shirl? Never finding the guy, and having to always be on your own? So you try to land the big fish before he knows what's hit him? By the time he figures it out, though, it's too late. He's obligated to you, stuck with you. Burdened by you." He shook his head, as the sad realization sunk in. "Interesting, isn't it. Your biggest fear revolves around a guy not being there. My biggest involves being stuck with the wrong woman." He smiled at her bleakly, "Talk about a train wreck waiting for a place to happen..."

For a moment, Carmine could have sworn he saw a moment of brutal clarity in Shirley's eyes; as if she finally saw her true reflection, warts and all. But only for a moment. The next thing he knew, she'd thrown herself against him, burying her face in his chest as she began to sob.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice muffled by his chest. "I'm so sorry! I never should have pulled that silly stunt with Lenny! I never meant you to get hurt, I just didn't know what to do! I was so afraid of losing you forever, and now I am!" she keened.

Carmine relaxed momentarily. His arms reaching out to embrace, his hand ready to stroke her back out of reflex, when her next words turned his blood to ice.

"I played right into Laverne's hands! If it hadn't been for my actions, she wouldn't have been able to entrap you the other night. Oh Carmine, I've been such a fool!"

"No, Shirley." Carmine's voice sounded artificially calm to his ears, like he was watching some second rate entertainer do a Big Ragu impression. "You're not a fool. You're the same selfish and manipulative person you've always been. I've just gotten better at seeing the truth, is all." Taking a deep breath, he grasped her upper arms and firmly pushed her away from him. "Good bye, Shirley."

Her tears vanished as quickly as they had arrived. "You don't mean that."

"Goodbye, Shirley."

Panic gripped her voice. "No. No, I don't want us to end this way."

"We ended nearly a week ago. This was just a formality."

The manic look that he had come to loathe returned to her eyes. "I can give you a reason to stay, Carmine. I can give it to you just as good as that slut did." Shirley's fingers went to the peter pan collar of her blouse, and she nervously began to play with the top button.

Carmine looked at her coldy. He was beyond anger, and heading someplace towards numbness. Her words no longer wounded him. They had no more meaning to him than a child repeating a naughty word, or the rantings of a crazy person. His Angelface was no more. All that remained was the shrew who had overstayed her welcome in his house. As she undid her second button, he sighed. "Quit embarrassing yourself and just leave." There was no anger left in his tone, just the fatigue of a man who'd finished an emotional marathon. He then turned away from her, for the last time, and headed towards his bedroom in search of a well deserved nap.

Her only goodbye was the slamming of his front door.



*****


"Maron!" Frank DeFazio nursed his burned fingers as he was for once grateful that no one else in the Pizza Bowl understood Italian. As he held his blistering fingertips under the kitchen faucet he groaned. As bad as the burns hurt, they still didn't distract him from his throbbing headache and back pain that had been plaguing him all day. He looked at the hot pizza platter with contempt, as if the aluminium disc was the sole reason for his current despair.

The last few days had been hell. Laverne had moved back in with him, an action that would have made him weep tears of joy five years ago. Now... As guilty as he felt for thinking of it, and as much as he prayed his sainted Mama back in Brooklyn would never know; there was a lot to be said for bachelor living. Especially since Edna Babbish had entered his life.

Now, he sighed, his twenty six year old, unmarried daughter had moved back into his place lock, stock, and barrel. The current sight of his formerly too independent and boisterous daughter shook Frank to his core. All his Muffin had done for the past three days was to call in sick to the brewery, cry under the covers in her old bedroom, and take several showers a day. He knew she wasn't eating, and was pretty sure she wasn't sleeping. He knew that Laverne and Shirley had some sort of quarrel, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what had happened to cause such a rift. Frank had tried interrogating, pleading, and threatening Laverne to tell him what was going one; but nothing worked. His daughter would stare right past him, as if he wasn't even there, and remain silent. He had never before felt so helpless.

As his heart ached for his daughter's pain, Frank sent up a tiny prayer to Josephine to give him a clue on how to help their child. As father's went, Frank knew he was a good one. However, he was the first to admit that sometimes a girl needed her mother. As hard as he'd worked since Laverne was six years old to fill that role, Frank knew he fell woefully short.

A smile temporarily brightened his stern face. The answer was right under his nose. Edna. She was close to both girls, nearly a surrogate mother of sorts. If anyone could get to the bottom of this pile of female problems, it was Edna Babish. Frank was just reaching over to grab the phone when a crowd of men wearing green Shotz jumpsuits walked in.

Frank realized Edna would have to wait as he once again cursed his own generousity. Mary had asked for the night off since her boyfriend was on leave, and he'd said yes since Thursday nights were usually slow. Once again, he had been wrong.

After yanking Louie from his cigarette break in the alley, Frank ambled over to the table with a stack of menus in his hands. Please let them all want beers and be big tippers, he prayed to the deity of food service. He recognized most of the faces, but the two at the end who were excitedly talking to each other were unfamiliar.

"Okay," the stranger with the light brown hair and the mustache said, "is Bernadette the redhead with a big rack in Hops, or is she the blond with the lazy eye in Labeling?"

His companion rolled his eyes. "Neither, you twit! Bernadette is the old lady in Accounting who drinks out of her flask behind the north dumpster everyday after lunch. Brandy is the redhead in Hops, and the blond in labeling is Bonnie. Maybe you should take notes or something."

"Hey, just trying to learn the lay of the land, my friend. Speaking of laying," he leered, I think that hot little brunette in bottlecapping might be open for some rebound loving, if you know what I mean."

"Everyone who's breathing knows what you mean, Grady. What's her name? Susie? Sally?"

"Nah, it's Shirley."

Frank's hands gripped the menus more tightly as he stepped forward intending to give the young punk a piece of his mind for insulting his daughter's best friend.

"Shirley Feeney? You moron, she's got a boyfriend. From what I hear, he used to be Milwaukee's Golden Gloved champ. You might want to watch your step, chum."

Grady smirked as his next words cut through Frank's heart like a knife. "Guess you haven't heard the latest, chum. From what I've heard, they are kaput. Apparently, she just found out that her boyfriend has been fucking her roommate on the sly. Hey! Are you okay, old man? Sweet Jesus, somebody call an ambulance!"

Frank sat on the floor. Dimly, he was aware of people running around. He couldn't hear their voices, but he could tell by their faces that they were shouting. Louie's face obscured Frank's view of the rest of the restaurant, as he began unbuttoning the collar of Frank's shirt. Frank wanted to shove Louie out of the way. He wanted to chase after that weasely little bastard who insulted his Muffin and choke the life out of him for spreading such awful lies. The creep probably had asked Laverne out and been turned down. His daughter had standards, damnit! She wouldn't be seen in public with a bum like that any more than she and Carmine would--

A bright light to his left interrupted Frank's internal tirade. Great, the overhead lights were acting up on top of everything else today. Just what he needed. His attention was immediately captured by a beautifully familiar woman near the light. Her long dark auburn hair and green eyes were just as he remembered them, as were her strong Etruscan features.

Frank smiled at her and whispered, "Josephine..."



*****



"Knock-knock," Laverne said as she walked through the open apartment door.

Carmine glanced up from the piles of clothes on his floor and favored her with a tight smile, before turning around and resuming his packing.

"So, it's really true. You're leaving." Even though the evidence was right before her eyes, she still couldn't believe it. Then again, if she hadn't been so quick to believe what she saw, neither one of them would be in this mess.

"Yep. I figured I've wasted enough time in this town. It's time for the Big Ragu to move on."

"Wasted? That sort of hurts. Except for the last week, I didn't think that things were that bad."

"Maybe not for you," he said, as he sat down heavily on the sofa. "I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past couple of days. Once of the good parts about not having a steady girlfriend is that you get plenty of alone time to figure stuff out."

"Anything you'd like to share with your partner in crime?"

"Laverne, did you ever wonder why I never proposed to Shirley? Or, why we never broke up for good, until now?"

She shook her head. "I just assumed you weren't ready, that you still needed to sow some wild oats," she said as she winced at her choice of words.

Carmine flashed her a shadow of his former smile before continuing. "I won't lie, that was part of it. But," he added as his face fell, "a lot of me and Shirley was simply habit. We'd been going out, off and on for ten years. Doesn't that just sound weird when you think about it? I think part of me always knew, deep down, that it wouldn't work, that there would always be something between us, something that would never allow me to fully trust her."

At Laverne's raised eyebrows, he added hastily, "Not liked screwing around with Lenny--not that kind of trust. Believe me, I never would have imagined that in my wildest dreams. I think part of me always knew that I could never trust her to react normally to things, or even be someone I could lean on. I'd be spending my life having to always take care of her, always be walking on eggshells around her," he met Laverne's eyes carefully, "like we've both done for too many years. Why didn't we tell her three years ago, Laverne?" He asked suddenly, as he jumped to his feet and began to pace in front of her. "Why did I tell her I didn't remember it at all? Why did you tell her you spent the night at Terry Buttafucco's? It's because we know she couldn't handle it, she'd flip out. And," he concluded, "she proved us right."

Laverne began to angrily pace back and forth on the worn beige rug. "That doesn't change things, Carmine. What we did was wrong."

"Yeah, we shouldn't have fooled around three years ago. And, we probably should have come clean to Shirley about what happened then and there. But we never wanted to hurt her. After she found out this week, you've been trying to move heaven and hell to make sure she wasn't hurt any further by something that happened three years ago. You dragged me all over town that night, hunting for Shirley, so we could settle it once and for all. And where was she? Duping poor, stupid Lenny into helping her cut your heart out in the most painful way possible and hand it to you. That's some friend there, Laverne.

"Well, we ain't friends no more. That's for certain." She turned around and glanced at the cardboard cartons at her feet. "Are you sure moving to New York is the right thing for you to do?"

"I've always wanted to be a dancer, Laverne. You know that. The furthest I can get in Milwaukee is to buy into a Marjorie Ward Dance Studio franchise." He laughed bitterly and continued, "I always thought owning a studio could combine dancing with having a real business. Y'know, if I ever wanted to get married and start a family." His dark eyes took on the pained and haunted look that Laverne was becoming too familiar with. "Things have certainly changed in a week, haven't they?"

"So, you're just taking off?"

Nodding, Carmine rose off the couch and stepped toward her. "Come with me," he asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"Come with me. You've got family in New York, it's not like you won't know anybody. There are more opportunities there than there are here in Milwaukee. What's holding you back?"

"Besides the lack of money and talent?" When he opened his mouth, as if to protest, Laverne quickly said, "You're the one with all the talent, Carmine. You're a great dancer and a wonderful singer. I'm a good dancer, Carmine, but I'm not even good enough to dance professionally here in Milwaukee, much less New York. Don't you remember what happened in Chicago?"

"Well, yeah... But--"

"No buts, Carmine. I ain't got that kind of talent, and I never will," she said with a hint of remorse. "But, you're a different story. You should go for it."

"So you won't dance on Broadway. Big deal. There are other things to do in New York, Laverne."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she replied as she let her gaze linger over his muscular build. "If I ran off with you, we'd end up in bed again. Probably before reaching Ohio. Our night together was a one time thing, and I can accept that. If it were to happen again, though, things would get even more complicated. I don't know about you, but I don't think I could handle that right now."

"But--"

"Again with the buts?" She grinned, forcing herself behind the safe barrier of laughter. "Besides, Milwaukee is my home. My Pop's here. I don't think I could ever leave him."

"What about what's best for you, Laverne? There's already gossip at the brewery, and you know it's just going to get worse. If people knew the whole truth, maybe--"

"No!" Laverne took a deep breath. "Shirley and Lenny in bed together? No one would believe it, and it honestly never happened. They could both deny it with a straight face."

Carmine's face darkened. "It's almost worse that they didn't do it. Every time I think about it, I get angrier than I was before." He bowed his head, and breathed deeply for several moments, as if trying to regain control. "You heard about what I did to Lenny?"

Her face fell despite herself. "Yeah. I heard. You shouldn't have done it, Carmine. You're a professional fighter. You could have killed him, even with just one punch."

"It's almost sad that you care, Laverne."

She looked up sharply. "Yeah. I care because if Lenny'd called the cops, you'd be sitting in a jail cell right now. And, since I'm probably going to have to find my own apartment soon, I couldn't afford to bail you out."

He snorted derisively, before fixing his dark eyes upon her. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

She weighed her words carefully before answering. "Sort of. I can't just shut of the way I feel about people, like I would turn off a faucet. I wish I could, but I can't." She looked back at Carmine, almost startled by his sigh of...relief? "He deliberately tried to hurt me, just so that I would... feel more for him?" She shook her head in sad wonder. "I never knew Lenny was capable of something like that. I mean, I know he's moody and doesn't always think things through--but this?"

"You know that it was all Shirley's idea, don't you?"

She grinned at the irony of his sudden defense of the man who's nose he had broken two days earlier. Her features sombered as she replied, "Yeah, but she didn't exactly hold a gun to his head. I know Lenny would never come up with something like that on his own, but he jumped in hook, line, and sinker. He knew what he was going to do would hurt me, maybe not as bad as it did, but he knew. And he did it anyway. I might be able to forgive him for it one day, but I don't think I can ever trust him again. I don't even think we're going to stay friends. What?" she asked, seeing his dejected expression. "It's not like you and Shirley will make up anytime in the near future."

"Shirley and I are never getting back together. I honestly hope I never see her again." Before Laverne could question him further, Carmine blurted, "She came up here yesterday. I left a Dear Jane letter under your--her door. I told her I never wanted to see her again, ever."

"What is it with you and the notes? Carmine, after all that's happened, I can't believe you didn't want to tell her off to her face."

"I did," he replied quietly, in the same eerie tone that had chilled her nights before. "Hell, I wanted to do more than tell her off. I wanted to do to her what I did to Lenny."

"Carmine..."

"I know! I've never had the urge to ever, and I mean ever, hit a woman before. That's why I wrote the note."

"And?"

"I never could keep anything from you, Laverne." He shook his head ruefully and continued, "And, that's the main reason I'm leaving. Milwaukee ain't a small town, but the east side is a small neighborhood. I don't want to run into Shirley all of the time and have to relive this. I don't trust myself around her, Laverne. I want to--need to move on."

"How'd she take it?" At his amazed expression, she clarified, "I'm not feeling as sorry as I was a few days ago. Somehow seeing the word *slut* keyed onto my locker at the brewery has changed my outlook." She looked away quickly, feeling tears forming.

"Who did it?" Carmine threw down the bundle of clothes he was loading into a garbage bag and headed to the door.

"Whoa, easy there," Laverne said as she reached for his arm. "I don't know who did it. Shirley hasn't been exactly shy about gossipping, and there were a lot of people who heard her yelling in the break room that day."

"It ain't fair!"

"Nothing about this is fair, Carmine."

"No. You don't understand. When Shirley was here yesterday, she was all crying and begging me for forgiveness. She said you twisted things around and used the situation to your advantage."

"Oh." Laverne felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, as she sank to the couch that was mercifully behind her. Her eyes lost focus momentarily, as she tried to reconcile the words coming out of Carmine's mouth with what she thought knew of her best friend of nearly twenty years. Shirley was ready to forgive Carmine, but not her? Limbo was replaced by anger as the full implications set it. What, did Shirley think she held Carmine down and took him against his will? Did she think that Carmine had been slipped a mickey and wasn't in control of himself?

Laverne didn't realize she was crying until she felt Carmine's fingers gently wipe her tears away. His dark eyes were filled with compassion and empathy, and words weren't necessary as he rocked her gently in his arms until her sobbing stopped. He eased himself backwards, and cradled her in his arms as before. Clinging to him, she inhaled his scent of musk and aftershave--the combination that she had come to identify as a harbinger of safety--as the darkness claimed her.

Laverne awoke with a start in the darkened apartment. She pushed back from the arms encircling her, as the circles around Carmine's eyes told her that he hadn't slept a wink. "What time is it?" she whispered, then blushed at herself for whispering when they were both awake.

He smiled indulgently at her, and continued to stroke her hair. "I think it's around two in the morning."

"I should go," Laverne said, as she rose unsteadily to her feet. "I'm sorry. I know you've got a lot of packing to do."

"You don't have to go, Laverne."

"Yeah, Carmine. I do. If I stay, I'm gonna try to do anything I can to keep you off of that Greyhound bus in the morning."

"If you stay, I might not want to get on that bus."

"I'm going to miss you, Carmine. And not just about... you know." she said, blushing.

"I know. I'm going to miss you too. You're a real friend. You deserve a guy who can give you the world, Laverne. Don't forget that. Don't... settle.

"Settle?'

"For a guy like me. A guy that doesn't have a lot of love to offer."

"I think you're selling yourself short, Carmine. But," she said, stifling a yawn, "I'm too tired to run down my list of all your wonderful qualities." As he rose from the couch, she held out her hand in protest. "No," she said as she shook her head, "this is goodbye."

"Goodbye, Laverne." he said, not even daring to say that he loved her as a friend. His apartment darkened further as she walked through the doorway and out of his life.


*****


The chilly night air made the flesh on Laverne's bare arms dance with goosebumps. The four block walk from her old building to her Pop's apartment had never seemed longer. She glanced around uneasily, seeing danger in every dark corner, as if the very shadows themselved could reach out and harm her. She giggled nervously at her own paranoia. The echo of her shaky laugh did little to reassure her on the dark street.

Ridiculous. She'd walked this way a hundred times before with out incident. But, she'd never done it alone before. At two-thirty in the morning. She'd always had Shirley with her. Or a boyfriend. Even Squiggy would have been a welcome sight, providing he wasn't with his worse half. A stray memory of Carmine escorting her made her smile. Always the gallant gentleman, that one. Laverne's shoulders slumped when she once again she realized those days were gone for good.

Laverne was all out of tears, but the pain was still there. In one week, she'd lost her best friend twice. First, when Shirley took her friendship away. Then a second time when Laverne found out their friendship had been a sham. Sure, they were friends...when Shirley wanted something, or needed some one. But, in Shirley's world, she was replaceable. One best friend of twenty years was apparently worth one on-again-off-again boyfriend.

At that moment, in a dark part of Laverne's soul that she was loathe to own, she was glad that Carmine was leaving. Not that she wouldn't miss his friendship, especially since friendly faces were so few in her life recently, but his leaving guaranteed he and Shirley wouldn't be getting back together. The thought of her running into them at the Pizza Bowl, made her nearly gag; the handsome white knight and his pure little Angelface. Then again, she probably wasn't giving Carmine enough credit. They had both learned this week how cold the purely driven snow could be.

Laverne smiled when she reached the front door of her father's building, but she still couldn't shake her feeling of unease. The building, which had been her home for twelve years, suddenly looked like a dark and foreboding place. Laverne looked up towards her father's bedroom window and was surprised to see it was dark. That was very odd. Frank DeFazio had never been able to go to sleep until his beloved Muffin was safely home. Their frequent and loud arguements regarding her hours had been one of the main reasons she had moved out when she was eighteen. That, and to bravely step out into the world with her best friend...

Enough! She had to get over Shirley, plain and simple. What's done was done, bridges had been burned, and there was no going back, she thought as she quietly tiptoed up the three flights of steps to her old home, the DeFazio apartment, number three-oh-eight. She was just putting her key in the lock when the phone began to ring inside of the apartment. "Damnit!" Laverne jiggled the lock, and dashed into the dark apartment, not even taking the time to wonder why her Pop hadn't answered the phone yet.

"Hello?"

"Laverne!" Edna Babish's voice sounded like it was halfway between a shout and a sob.

"Edna?"

"Laverne, where the hell have you been?"

"I--Edna, what's wrong?" Laverne shivered in the suddenly cold apartment, the silence and the darkness confirming the horrible truth she didn't want to know.

"It's your father, dear..." Edna's voice became drowned in her own sobs.

*****


Laverne sighed as she replaced the foil on the lasagna pan and placed it in her Pop's icebox. If she never saw another lasagna or bananna bread in her entire life, it would be too soon. Still, she should be greatful. If it hadn't been for her Pop's kind neighbors, bringing her food, calling her relatives in Brooklyn, and handling the funeral arrangements with the Church; she couldn't have made it through the last four days. She'd never felt more alone and rootless in her entire life. Once again, Laverne silently gave thanks for Edna Babish. Even though she knew Edna's own heart had broken, Laverne was greatful for the kindness of her Pop's girlfriend. If it hadn't been for Edna, Laverne knew she would have sat alone at the funeral. The other mourners had been polite, but the judgement in their eyes contradicted their perfunctory words of condolence. As for her friends, only Terry Buttafucco and a few of the Debs made an appearance.

She knew the doctors at St. Catherine's weren't happy with her decision to refuse an autopsy. They had told her it was most likely a heart attack, and that he probably didn't even know what hit him. A brief conversation with Louie the cook filled Laverne in on the details. Louie's red cheeks and inability to meet her eye told her what really happened, what her Pop heard in his last moments of life. It seemed more and more like the repercussions from that damned night were going to follow her to her grave.

She had resumed scouring the already clean kitchen sink when she heard the apartment door creak. "Thanks, Mrs. Coletti," she said, without turning around, "I got your bread pan all nice and clean here, and you can have that bouquet of carnations on the table if you want them."

"I ain't Mrs. Coletti," a familiar male voice said.

Laverne whirled around, as surprise fueled her anger. "You've got some kind of nerve."

"I just come by to pay my respects, is all," said Lenny, his voice muffled by the bandage across the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry about your Pop."

"Thanks. Now leave."

"Is that how you're gonna treat me from now on, Laverne? Mean?"

"Don't talk to me about mean, Lenny," she said to the sink as she began to scour the tomato sauce stain in the porcelain for all she was worth. "I don't know nothing about being mean compared to you and your girlfriend."

"Shirley ain't my girlfriend, and she never was."

"Oh yeah, you're right. You were just her stooge."

"I just wanted..."

"Damnit!" Laverne threw the sponge into the sink as she whirled around. "You wanted what you wanted, Lenny. And you didn't care who you had to hurt to get it. Me. Whatever."

"But, Shirl said..."

"Shirley said whatever she needed to say to get your help, you idiot," she said through clenched teeth, as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. "She didn't give a damn about you, it was all about hurting me."

"I know that! I know that now, I didn't know it then ! I swear to you, Laverne, I had no idea that she was using me."

"But you knew that what she was planning would hurt me, though. Didn't you?" She felt a small sensation of triumph when he couldn't meet her eyes.

"I didn't know it would hurt you enough to make you jump into Carmine's bed in two seconds flat!" Anger flared from his blue eyes as he stepped towards her, his voice becoming louder with an almost hysterical pitch. "How could you?"

She looked at him in amazement. "I don't regret anything that happened between me and Carmine, and I never will," she said as she enjoyed the flicker of pain that flashed across his features. "I was with the only one of my so-called friends that didn't go out of their way to hurt me that night."

"Wise up, Laverne," he sneered, "Carmine was between bimbos and you just showed up at the right time. When him and Shirley get back together, he ain't even going to remember your name."

"Then why did he ask me to move to New York with him?" At his blank look, a cold smile crossed Laverne's face. "You didn't know he left town last week? I'm not surprised, I'm sure you've been avoiding him since your last run in." It amused her to see his hand instinctively move towards his swollen nose and blackened eyes, and that bothered her.

"He'll be back," Lenny mumbled.

"No. No, he won't. You know why? Because he's got the guts to go after what he wants directly, not wait around for someone to hand it to him, or to try to trick someone," she added, as she twisted the knife a bit. "Carmine has his own dreams, his own plans. He's not stupid enough to let other people do his thinking for him. Whatever he gets, or doesn't get, is because of what he does--not what people tell him to do."

"Half the neighborhood knows what Carmine got that night."

Her hand flashed out to slap him, and he caught it in a surprisingly quick reflex. Lenny caught her other hand and stepped towards her, until she was backed up against the kitchen counter. His blue eyes glowed with an unearthly and unsettling light, and for one brief, frightening moment, Laverne thought he was going to strike her. As she stared up at him, both of them trembling with the tension of the moment, his eyes softened, regarding her with the guilessness of a child. "I'm sorry," he whispered, brokenly. "I--" He didn't finish his sentence, instead his arms merely encircled her. Laverne was surprised to feel herself return his embrace as they gently swayed to and fro to the rhythym of her sobs.


*****

Shirley Feeney smiled smugly at the sight that awaited her in the breakroom. Men in maintenance uniforms were scraping the tape marked "DeFazio" off of the locker next to hers. Well, well, well. The rumours must be true. They must have canned Laverne for using up all of her leave. Served her right. Besides, now that she'd be running the Pizza Bowl, it wasn't like Laverne was going to go hungry anytime in the near future. A twinge of guilt tickled Shirley's gut as Frank DeFazio's face flashed before her eyes. The feeling was short lived, however, as she squelched the emotion, like she did all of her disruptive feelings, and crammed it into the dark little place in her soul. Poor man, it was really too bad the horrible truth about Laverne finally caught up with him. It wasn't like it was her fault, by any means, Shirley decided as she sat down at the table and began to unwrap her egg salad sandwich.

She frowned at the squishy mess wrapped in foil. Egg salad was her least favorite, but least expensive lunch option. With Laverne gone, and with no one to share her end of the expenses, Shirley'd had to start pinching pennies pretty hard. As much as she was dreading it, she'd have to start looking for another roommate, and soon. The daggers Mrs. Babish stared at her when ever they ran into each other in the hallway belied any hope Shirley may have harbored about paying her rent late. The spiteful old witch probably couldn't wait for an excuse to throw her out. No doubt her grief about Mr. DeFazio's passing had sublimated itself into a blind eye towards Laverne's many faults and shortcomings. It didn't matter, she told herself as she took a dainty bite of her sandwich. That building had too many awful memories anyway, what with visions of Laverne and Carmine in his apartment, Lenny in her bedroom, and all the other sundry and miserable things that happened under that roof...

"Hello!"

Shirley winced at Squiggy strode into the breakroom with a cadre of truckers around him. As they brushed past her to get to the soda machine, a few jostled her chair, one winked, while the other's looked her up and down appraisingly. Shirley favored the reprobates with one of her withering looks, and was disconcerted when it had no effect. Cretins. What should she expect from a bunch of classless jerks like them? Shirley's skin prickled, and she realized Squiggy had sat down next to her, unnaturally close. She opened her mouth to tell him off, give him a well-deserved lecture on proper boundaries, but the expression on his face stopped her cold. Squiggy stared at her intently, but there was none of the malicious humor or calculated leering she'd come to know and loathe. Instead, his black eyes regarded her flatly, with a cold detachment. "You must forgive the boldness of my comrades underarms, Shirley Feeney," he said in an eerily controlled voice. "They're new to Shotz and just heard all about you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's considered teamster courtesy, y'know. Telling the new guys about the indigenous populist. Who's married, who's got a boyfriend, who's a sure thing and you don't even have to pay for dinner," he said as his eyes came to rest on her.

"What?" Shirley leapt out of her chair and grabbed him by the lapels of his jumpsuit.

"Whoa, take it easy, woman!" Squiggy glanced over at the men by the soda machine. "See what I mean?" Then, turning his attention back to Shirley, he added, "Sorry to disappoint, my sweet, but the doctor said I should at least wait until the rash clears up from last time. Besides, I ain't got no more rubbers left."

Shirley plopped back down into her chair, as she felt the blood drain from her face. "Why?"

"I dunno, Shirl. Maybe it's caused you used me to get my best friend to do the dumbest thing he's ever done in his life? And with Lenny, that says quite a lot. If it wasn't for you, he'd still be working here with me, instead of loading boxes at Meckler's Department store. Maybe because you spread horrible stories around about your best friend, and didn't even have the decency to try to make it up to her when her father died? Maybe it's because you spit in the face of everyone who's ever tried to help you, including me?"

"But Laverne and Carmine--"

"Enough. No one here, especially me, wants to hear that story ever again." He smirked before continuing. "Besides, people like the truth better, anyhoo."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, Shirley. You was there. You know that night that Carmine walked in on you and Lenny vodey-oh-do-ing your brains out? He got so upset that he busted poor, stupid Lenny's nose when he found out you two had been going hot and heavy for quite a while under his big nose. Then poor Carmine ended up crying on Laverne's shoulder, AT HER POP'S APARTMENT, WITH HIM THERE! That's the story people are talking about today, Shirley.

"You miserable, lying, little worm!"

"Maybe so, maybe so..."

"If you think for one second that you're going to get away with spreading lies about me, you have another thing coming, Mister!"

"Why? What are you going to do, Shirley Wilhemini Feeney? Sick the Big Ragu on me? Last I heard, he didn't leave you a forwarding address. Tell Laverne's Pop? I only wish that you could," he sneered. Abruptly, he leaned in towards her and hissed, "And if you think that story's good, you should read what's on the men's room walls at Vinnie's Pool Hall and Moby Dominick's. You should be meeting a lot more guys real soon, Shirley. Real soon," he promised, as his eyes glittered with a dark vengeance.


*****


"Uh, Len..."

"I'm sorry, Laverne. Can we try again in a few minutes? It's just hard," he said, wincing at his poor choice of words, "y'know, with your Crappity Ann doll staring at me with her one good eye."

"It ain't that, Len," Laverne said, as she pushed herself into a sitting position, the blanket falling haphazardly to her waist.

Lenny felt his face flame in shame, not arousal, as he stared at her nude torso. What the hell was wrong? He was in bed--naked, with Laverne and nothing was happening. Nothing at all. "Just give me ten minutes, I swear, Vernie. Ten minutes and I'll be ready."

She looked at him with sadness in her green eyes. "It ain't happening, Len. Not for either one of us."

His face flushed again, but this time, in anger. "You're still thinking about Carmine, ain't you?" He quickly looked away from her body, as if he could see where Carmine had put his hands upon her.

"No, but you are."

"Hey, I like girls! Go ask any of the women I've pressed up against in the hallways at Shotz, and they'll tell you! Lenny Kosnowski is for the ladies, only!"

"I didn't mean it that way, Len." She took a deep breath and rubbed her hand across her eyes before continuing. "You can't stop thinking about me and Carmine, the way that I can't stop thinking about you and Shirley."

"I swear, Vernie, nothing happened--"

"Oh, I know you two didn't do it. But you both hurt me. I guess part of me is wondering when you're going to hurt me like that again."

In a flash, he grabbed her in his arms, vainly trying to make her feel the comfort he was failing to project. "I swear, Laverne. I ain't going to do nothing like that ever again. Honest."

She gently pushed him back, as she sat up further in her tiny childhood bed, as if protecting herself with distance. "I know you think you mean that, right now. Hell, perhaps you do. The problem is Len, I don't know if I can get over it."

"You said you forgave me," he whined, as he winced at the pitch of his own voice.

"I did. And I do. But, forgiving and forgetting are two different things. And so is trusting. In my head, I know you're sorry; but in my heart, I don't know if I can trust you."

"But--"

She shook her head. "I can't forget that night, anymore than you can forget how you felt when you found out about me and Carmine. Those memories are always going to be there everytime either one of us closes our eyes."

"But, I can change. We can work through this, we--"

"No," she said, with a sad shake of her head. "I'm too tired, Lenny. I'm too tired of fighting, of being hurt, of being afraid. I just don't have the strength to be worrying what's around the next corner, when--and how hard the next shoe's going to drop."

Panic gripped him as he babbled, "We can go slow. I don't want to pressure you. I know I go a little overboard sometimes, but I can hold back. This," he said, gesturing to the rumpled sheets, "we ain't gotta do this now. We ain't gotta do it for a real long time. We--" His words ended has she gently laid a finger against his lips.

"Time ain't going to fix what's wrong with us, Len. And time is something I ain't got a lot of anymore."

His eyes widened in horror. "Vernie, you ain't dying or nothing?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, it ain't that. It's just that I'm... leaving."

"Where are you going?"

"I haven't signed the final recruiting papers yet," she said, as if to calm him down, "But, I'm joining the Army."

"You're what?"

"You heard me."

"But--you can't! I mean... you've got a job,"

"I quit Shotz."

His eyes bugged out in disbelief. "You just quit? But what about... uh--"

"You can't think of anything either, can you?"

"The Pizza Bowl!" He felt a surge of triumph course through his being, surely Laverne couldn't...

But she was already shaking her head. "I can't run the Pizza Bowl, Len."

"But you're Pop always wanted--"

She looked up at him suddenly, as a flash of anger danced in her eyes. "Lenny, my Pop died there. I haven't been able to walk in there without breaking down into tears."

"It's just going to take some time..."

"Will you quit talking about time!" In an angry gesture she rose from the bed and walked across the bedroom to her terrycloth robe hanging from it's hook on the bedroom door.

His eyes followed her, fascinated by her nakedness and his numbness to it. "Then why this?" he said, once again gesturing to the bed. "What was this about, Laverne?"

She hung her head. "Part of me hoped I'd have a reason not to go, that if I gave us a chance, we could work." She shook her head, sadly, "We both know how that turned out. Why kid ourselves? It's time for me to move on, anyhow. To be on my own for once," she continued, as she wrapped herself in the green robe. "I need to move on, move out; to spread my wings a bit." She walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge, as if willing him to understand. "I ain't ever been alone before, Len--"

"You don't have to be," he said, as he clasped her small hand into his. "I can take care of you, y'know, once I get a better job than working part-time at Meckler's. You can move in with me and Squig--don't make a face--"

"Len, you just don't get it. I need to go. To learn things, to see things, to get out of Milwaukee--"

"To get away from me?" Part of his soul crashed when she nodded.

"There's just too much hurt, Len. And, I don't have the faith to stick it out and see if we can make us work. I'm sorry, Len."

"No you're not," he said, as his vision began to blur , and his voice trembled. "If you was really sorry, you'd stay."

"No." She touched her hand to his cheek gently as she spoke. "You're a good man, Lenny. You deserve a girl who can see that part of you clearly, with love in her eyes. I just see too much pain," her voice caught, but she continued. "I wish things were different. And I wish with all my heart that we didn't end before we began, but we did. We can't turn back the clock and change things." She sighed and stood, before bending down and kissing him with a sad air of finality. "I'm going to go into the bathroom now for a while. Please don't be here when I come out." With that, she turned and walked