By Shotzette





This is only a work of fan fiction, nothing for the lawyers to get upset about.  It is not intended to infringe upon anyone’s copyrights or intellectual properties.



This is a sequel to Missy’s “Demeaning You”, which was a sequel to my “Even More’.



The jarring bounce of the bus made Laverne DeFazio wince as it slowed to a stop at the corner of Knapp and Fourth Avenue.  She ignored the leering smirk of the bus driver as she trounced angrily down the steps and onto the pavement.  One o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, and the streets were all but deserted.  For once, Laverne enjoyed the solace, finding it soothing rather than frightening.  A few hours alone would do her good, she rationalized.  She could relax, take a hot bath, crawl under the covers and actually sleep for a while…  She sighed aloud at the oddness of her last thought.  Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that constant physical attention would be a downside to living with Carmine Ragusa.  “Be careful what you wish for…” a tiny, malicious voice in her head chanted.


She inwardly shrugged.  Maybe too much sex wouldn’t be such a bad thing since she didn’t have to get up at four thirty in the morning tomorrow to go to her truck-washing job at Shotz.  Perhaps unemployment wouldn’t be all that bad, she mused.  Carmine said that business was picking up at the dance studio, and he was expecting to see the money start rolling in at any time now.  He told her that he’d have enough cash to pay her back the money that she’d loaned him and they’d be able to rent a better apartment in the ritzier side of town.


Laverne didn’t care too much about moving up as much as she cared about moving out these days.  The apartment she used to share with Shirley wasn’t a home anymore, just a cold set of rooms that echoed the sentiments—and judgments—of her former roommate.  Every where Laverne looked there were reminders of Shirley’s absence, Shirley’s missing record player, Shirley’s empty half of the closet, her barren side of the bathroom cabinet.


Laverne had hoped that asking Carmine to move in would have made things better, and less lonely.  The only way it had helped out was financially, and not too much at that.  A truck washer’s reduced salary and Carmine’s sporadic tap lessons were proving to be very challenging.  Maybe telling her new supervisor to go screw himself before dumping a bucket of soapy water over his head wasn’t the brightest idea she’d had in a while, she reflected.  Then again, her recent decisions hadn’t exactly been crowd pleasers with the people in her life.


The sight of her apartment door slightly ajar squelched all further reflection.  She knew she’d locked it this morning as she’d tiptoed out in the early hours.  Gingerly, she pushed the door open, momentarily relieved that Carmine had been a little helpful around the house and replaced the squeaky hinges.  The lights were on, and it didn’t look like anything was missing, per her quick visual inventory.


A soft sound from the bedroom drew her attention.  It was followed by a deeper, more masculine, and painfully familiar groaning noise.  Quietly, Laverne walked towards her bedroom and craned her neck around the partially opened door.


She wish the sight in front of her had genuinely shocked her, but it was more like seeing the end of a Perry Mason episode when you’d figured out who was the killer in the first ten minutes.


Lucille Lockwash lay across the bed she’d shared with Carmine for the last six months, the latter was skillfully moving his mouth down her body.  Laverne stared in disbelief as her lover pleasured the other woman with a focus and selflessness he’d never showed her.  Laverne backed away from the door.  Black dots swirled in front of her eyes, and her stomach lurched.  The thought of being found vomiting by Carmine and the “other” other woman galvanized her into action.


At that moment, she saw Lucille’s purse sitting on the kitchen counter.  With a single mindedness that would amaze her upon later reflection, Laverne quietly rifled through the expensive leather bag until she found the equally expensive matching wallet.  Blindly, she grabbed at the wad of cash inside and shoved it into her jeans pocket.  The bulge burned against her thigh, as it brought her true clarity of Carmine’s nature.  Laverne took one last look at the apartment that had once been her home before she grabbed the laundry basket of clean clothes and headed out the door. 


Once in the over-bright afternoon, Laverne began to walk briskly and blindly as the hot tears began to flow down her cheeks.  Bastard!  She sacrificed everything for them—for him—and this is how he repaid her love, her trust?  The foul gorge rose in her throat and Laverne succumbed to her body’s purging.  Ducking into an alley, she dropped the laundry basket and fell to her knees as she retched behind a dumpster.


Afterwards, she fell back and leaned against the filthy dumpster, as she gasped for air.  Her mind stopped spinning in its angry vortex momentarily and she watched the shadows on the ground lengthen and realized time had passed.  Where was she to go?  Her father’s face flashed before her momentarily as always.  She could always count on her Pop.  At least, that’s what she used to think before he had found out that she was with Carmine.  Her allowing Carmine to move in with her without benefit of a wedding band escalated Frank DeFazio’s anger into a coldness she’d never experienced before.  The day he told her that he no longer had a daughter had been one of the most painful days of her life.


All of hers and Shirley’s mutual friends had turned their backs on her when she began to openly “date” Carmine.  She hadn’t even noticed while Shirley was still in Milwaukee, because she’d been so busy with Carmine…


Shirley, her one true friend in the world.  Sobs racked Laverne’s body anew as she remembered the fierceness of Shirley’s last hug before climbing into the ice cream truck with Lenny and Squiggy.  Shirley had sent her letters from California describing eighty- degree days, a beautiful new apartment, a nice job in a hobby store…  Shirley’s new street even had a pretty name, Laurel Vista—a helluva lot classier than Knapp Street.


Laverne pulled herself to her feet.  Fetching a not too icky shopping bag from the dumpster, she chucked the laundry basket—and Carmine’s clothes in the dumpster.  She transferred her clothes to the shopping bag, wiped the tears from her eyes, and started to walk the six blocks to the Greyhound station.


She was going to Burbank to be with Shirley.  It would be like old times, like none of the past six months had happened.  Everything was going to be okay…





To Part 2