Ghosts of Parties Past
By Shotzette

"Ghosts of Parties Past"

By Shotzette
shotzette@yahoo.com
Rated PG-13
1/1

This story takes place about a month after every L/L 'shipper's favorite ep, "Look Before You Leap".

This is merely a work of fanfiction and was written for entertainment purposes only. It is not intended to infringe upon anyone's copyrights or intellectual properties.

Possible L/L

Jim Weiss half heartedly raised his mug of Shotz to his lips and tried to wash down the taste of cardboard crust and overly sweet tomato sauce out of his mouth. Damn Pizza Bowl. His buddy, Vic raved about it all the time. Vic said it was where all the Shotz employees hung out after hours to dine, socialize and bowl. Bullshit. The lanes in the alley had to be warped since he'd never missed so many easy spares in his life, the miserable hunk of goo in front of him shouldn't even be allowed to be referred to as pizza, and aside from the two loser greasers cackling over the pinball machine, the place was deader than a doornail.

So far, Vic was O for three. It was his own damn fault, Jim groused as the now familiar feel of frustration crept over him. Chicago hadn't been working out, so new scenery had seemed like a good idea. Vic had sworn he could get him into the local teamster's union, he'd said that Jim would be a shoe in. Well, that was three months ago and three months spent unemployed and sleeping on Vic's lumpy couch were starting to take their toll on his usually carefree disposition.

He should have never listened to Vic. Vic had always been full of it, even back in their Army days. To hear Vic tell it, he was a big shot in the Union, nearly shop steward. Jim grimaced as he took another sip of his beer. Yeah, nearly. As in never been elected and never would be since the folks around here seemed to dislike him as much as the guys back in the sixty-fifth division had. The loser had even dragged him along to a company party two months ago. At first Jim had been thrilled to have somewhere to go; maybe he could meet some of the higher ups, press the flesh, talk his way into the Union...

Hah! All Vic wanted was somebody to talk to at the party, since everyone else avoided him like Typhoid Mary. Jim then raised his mug in a sarcastic toast, to himself, Typhoid Mary's date. A smirk crossed his handsome face when he remembered the night hadn't been a total loss. What was her name? Louise? Lorraine? Whatever. It didn't matter. They'd had some fun in one of the vats. Until she'd passed out, of course. Normally, that wouldn't have stopped him. Her snoring was a different matter entirely. That, and the men's boxer shorts she was wearing made him a little nervous. He'd been kind of afraid he might find something he didn't want to find down there. Especially after he'd been kissing her.

Jim didn't believe in signs, portents, or any other of that ooga-wooga crap, but seeing that broad enter the Pizza Bowl right when he was thinking of her, gave him a start. Feigning nonchalance, he watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sat down with a girlfriend, both engrossed in a highly animated conversation. Stone cold sober, she looked a little too bold for his tastes, a little too unfeminine, too loud.

Then again, beggars couldn't be choosers. He hadn't had any since whats-her-name in Highland Park, and it's not like he could afford to pay for it... Jim wiped his mouth with his napkin as he stood up. He patted down his unruly dark hair and place and sauntered her way, the grin that had helped get him laid since he was seventeen spreading across his face.

Her friend noticed him first, and smiled at him pleasantly. Too bad he met the one with the "L" first, he thought. The friend was definitely more his type. Then again, as far as they'd gone in the beer vat, he didn't think she'd put up much of an arguement. "Hey gorgeus, remember me?"

Her reaction surprised the living hell out him. She went pale, and her green eyes grew larger. "Get away from me," she said in a strangled whisper. "Leave me alone."

"Hey, I just wanted to.."

"Leave me alone!" Her voice had risen to a shriek, and she was out of her chair and backing away from him.

"Forget it! I ain't desperate enough to deal with some crazy--" Jim's next words were cut off as he felt himself get gripped from behind and propelled out the front door of the Pizza Bowl. The next sensation he felt was his face slamming into the side of the dumpster in the alley. Jim groaned, and prayed to the patron saint of the beautiful that his aquiline nose hadn't been broken on impact. When his vision cleared, he saw the taller of the two greasers standing over him in an orange satin jacket. Funny, the guy didn't look as goofy has he had five minutes earlier.

The other guy let him slowly stand up, before grabbing the lapels on his faded denim jacket and shoving him painfully against the dumpster again. "If you ever, and I mean ever, go near her again, you are a dead man. Got it?" The strange guy's face was inches away from his, the features distorted by rage.

Numbly, Jim nodded, and started to back away. Usually, he could more than hold his own in a fight. However, there was something frighteningly intense about this guy--something that told him there'd be no winners if they threw down. Something that made him speed up to a painful jog as he realized the other guy was still watching him as he stumbled out of the alley.

Jim was three blocks away before he felt comfortable to slow down to his normal pace. That tears it, he thought as he turned down the street to Vic's apartment. Screw Milwaukee. The city had too many crazies, and not enough jobs. He didn't need a bus to hit him...

Now Detroit, that was a place filled with opportunities...


FIN












(Close This Window To Return To LAS Fic)