Stepping Stones
By Shotzette

"Stepping Stones"
By Shotzette
Rated PG-13


This is only a work of fanfiction, yadda, yadda, yadda. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights or intellectual property held by anyone anywhere anyhow. This was written for grins and giggles.





Carmine Ragusa took a deep and even breath as he tried to calm his nerves. He hated auditions with a passion. After eight years in the business, he thought the initial edge of terror would have worn off, but each time was as frightening as his first open call at the Winter Garden Theatre back in New York. He tried to calm himself, to tell himself that this one wasn't a big deal, that he had a sure gig lined up at Disney in four months, that this USO tour was just a time filler.

A well paying time filler, he had to remind himself. Sure, he'd saved enough cash over the years so he wouldn't be living in a cardboard box, but living on beanie weenies to afford his rent wasn't his idea of living any more. Carmine shook his head ruefully. Hell, back when he was just starting out, beanie weenies were a delicacy and his options were open. At that moment, he then realized that the worst thing about growing older was his diminishing courage towards the future. Then again, bitter experience could knock the wind out of anyone's sails.

A sharp elbow into his ribs brought him back to the here and now. He glanced up into the face of one of the twins--like he'd ever been able to tell them apart to begin with.

"You missed your cue," either Tammy or Pammy hissed, "They're starting the tape over."

Great. Being corrected by a half-witted nineteen year old. That's just what he needed. "And a five-six-seven-eight," he muttered under his breath as he and the twins took the stage. Carmine turned on his professional smile automatically into the blindingly anonymous spotlight. His audition piece wasn't the most difficult he'd ever choreographed, but it would fit the criteria in the ad. Besides, with anything more challenging, he didn't know what would crap out first; one of the lead-footed twins, or his trick knee. Besides, with two beautiful--albeit clumsy--girls sharing the stage, it wasn't like any horny soldiers would notice him. At least, he thought with a slight shudder, he hoped they wouldn't.

Ninety seconds later, it was all over. Carmine and the twins stood on the stage, trying not to pant and waiting for the powers that be to give them the thumbs up, or send them packing. A male voice boomed out of the darkness, "Thank you very much. We'd like to see a little more, though. Just from the guy."

Carmine's smile stayed in place as he wondered if he'd worried so much about the twins screwing up, that he himself had misstepped. "What would you like to see?"

There was a muffled sound before the voice returned. "Okay, Sarge. I'll ask. Can you do something more elaborate?"

"Elaborate?"

More muffled sounds. "Yes, jazzier. Like if someone was going to audition for a Chicago production of West Side Story."

"Oh, you mean with the pow and the bang and the--huh?"

The muffled sounds gave way to laughter. "Don't sweat it, you're in. Report here tomorrow at 0900 hours to start rehearsals."

"But--" Carmine began to ask as the spotlight cut out, leaving him in momentary darkness until the house lights came up. "Well," he said to the twins, who had walked back out on stage, "it looks like we've got a job." He instantly regretted telling them when they both squealed for joy and began to jump up and down excitedly.

"Omigod! We're officially professionals!" one said.

"Let's go call Mom and give her the good news. Now she'll be happy that she didn't make us go to secretarial school!"

Carmine shook his head bemusedly as he watched the girls practically skip off stage in search of a pay phone.

"I can't remember being that young. Can you, Carmine?" a vaguely familiar voice asked from behind him.

He whirled around to see a woman he hadn't spoken to, or allowed himself to think about in ages. A grin sprang onto his face, so genuine from his usual charming performance smile. He rushed forward, intent on crushing her into a bear hug like old times, but the hard look in her green eyes stopped him short. It was then he noticed the uniform, army green with stripes on the sleeve. "Laverne?" he asked softly, as he tried to reconcile the stern faced, square shouldered woman in front of him with the girl--no, the woman he left in Milwaukee.

"It's good to see you again, Carmine."

Carmine smiled again reflexively, a defense mechanism he'd learned since relocating to California in the last year. "Wow. You. In the Army. Who would have thunk it?"

"A lot changes in eight years," she replied with a slight smile.

Realization dawned on him. "That was you, up in the booth, wasn't it?"

"No flies on you."

He felt his spirits sink. "So, that's how I got the job, isn't it? On account of you and me being old...friends?" he asked, carefully.

"No. You got the job because out of the five acts that auditioned, you were the only one who didn't make me want to throw up."

"I'll try to not let that go to my head," he responded as his eyes grazed over her. The years had been kind, he decided. She was thinner, and her features a little sharper, but she looked good, despite the matronly bun she wore her hair in. He grinned despite himself. In the land of chronic sunshine and flower children, Laverne looked like a stereotypical librarian.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity alight on her face.

"Just how long it's been, and how much you've changed." Carmine regretted his words as he saw her stiffen and her eyes once again become guarded.

"Adapt or die, that's one of the rules of life, isn't it?"

Silence fell between them. Before Carmine could think up an excuse to politely leave, he was distracted by a young man in an Army uniform.

"Seargent," the young man addressed Laverne, "I have the travel requisitions, background questionaires, and medical forms you requested." Carmine couldn't help feel his thirty five years as he looked into the freckle face before him. If possible, the kid looked like an even younger Richie Cunningham.

"I don't see the orientation paperwork, Corporal," Laverne remarked, while fixing her steely gaze on the youngster.

"I uh..." the soldier replied, as he looked at Carmine with a nervous expression on his face.

Laverne let out a sound between a sigh and her old familiar whine. "No excuses, Corporal. I need them on my desk by 2100 tonight."

"Yes, M'am."

Carmine watched the young pup slink away, tail between his legs. He then looked apraisingly at the new Laverne in front of him. It was if she was a stranger. Not the woman he once-- Quickly, he pushed the errant thought away. He hadn't allowed himself to think of her, or Milwaukee in years, and so far it had been working out fine. "Well, I see you're busy. It was good seeing you again, Laverne," he said, performance smile back in place as he turned to leave.

"Hey, wait! I was hoping we could, I dunno, talk a bit. I haven't seen you since forever, and it would be nice if we could catch up," she said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

Carmine wracked his usually quick brain for a polite brush off, but something in Laverne's expression and her tone, stopped him dead in his tracks. Need. That's what he was seeing. The longing expression looked so foreign on the new Laverne, he had almost forgotten how the old Laverne wore her need like a shroud. "Are you free for dinner? Y'know, if I'm allowed in the Mess Hall."

"Trust me, dinner and Mess Hall are two things that should never be in the same sentence,"she replied with a bit of her old smile. "It's been a long time since I've had any Italian cooking. Care to show the new gal in town where the good places are?"

"Place. Unfortunately, there's only one decent Italian restaurant in Los Angeles, and the chef's from the Bronx. All the other Italian places around here are run by guys from Chicago," he said as he watched her shudder.

"How does 1900 hours sound?"

"Like a long wait. How long is that in human time?"

"Seven."

"Great, let's go."

"Actually," she said, as she handed him a notepad and pencil from the table, "Give me the address and I'll meet you there." At his quizzical look, she elaborated, "They don't like us off base in uniform unless we're on official business."

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Even though the Peace movement had started to wind down, someone in uniform could be perceived as a target by any number of "peace-loving" nutjobs. He glanced into her eyes, and saw a momentary glimmer of fear before she shook it off. Carmine felt his gut twist at the thought of anyone hurting Laverne. Watch out, he thought to himself, this is not a road you want to travel... Hastily, he scribbled down the name of the restaurant and the street before promising to meet up with her later.

As he walked away, he couldn't figure out if he was moving forward or backwards.



*****



Carmine stared intently at his breadstick, without actually seeing the garlic encrusted baguette. What the hell was he doing? Why was he waiting for any woman, particularly one with whom he'd shared a difficult time--to say the least? He wasn't a pushover any more. He wasn't the good guy that was always there for women, opening doors, loaning them cash, running interference between them and the big bad world. He'd been there, done that, and thrown out the tee shirt.

Yet, there he sat. In his favorite Italian restaurant, a place surely to become tainted by this night so he could never revisit it again. Why was he doing all this for a woman who never answered any of his letters, leaving him with a collection of envelopes saying "No forwarding address"? He was so sure he had broken free...

And he was so wrapped up in his own head that he didn't realize Laverne had walked up behind him until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't I know you from some place?"

Carmine turned, and immediately felt an uncontrollable grin dance across his face. "Yeah, I'm the guy upstairs with the mambo records."

"I thought you looked familiar," she said, seating herself across the table from him.

Carmine looked her up and down appraisingly. The matronly bun and dowdy uniform were gone, revealing a woman with long brown hair and a form fitting black dress. The effect was breath taking to say the least.

"I'm sorry I'm late. The cabdriver apparently knows less about L.A. than I do."

'I just got here myself," he lied smoothly. "Everything is good," he offered as she picked up her menu.

"I can tell. This place smells like my Grandma's kitchen did back in Brooklyn."

"I don't think you could say a nicer thing about this place if you tried, Laverne. I'm glad we're doing this."

"Yeah, me too. It's been a long time. Too long," she added meaningfully.

"You look great." She blushed, and he braced himself for her typical denial of a compliment. She surprised him by merely thanking him.

A waiter, stooped and wizened, stopped by their table and favored them with a yellowed, but genuine smile. "Are the Signor and Signora ready to order?"

Carmine looked at Laverne. "I know what I want. How about you?"

She nodded, then looked up at the waiter. "I'll have the linguine pesci with the house salad."

"And you, sir?"

"The usual, and a bottle of the house chianti." Carmine, grinned as he watched the older man gather their menus and walk away.

"The usual? Are you holding out on me, Ragusa?" she teased, laughter in her green eyes.

"Nah. Vinnie's veal piccatta's great, but it's nowhere as good as your pop's. I haven't had good DeFazio cooking in ages, but you could tell the difference and be disappointed." Laverne looked at him, and it was like he saw a lightbulb go out in her face.

"Excuse me," Laverne said, signalling their waiter, "I changed my mind. Could you make it two veal piccattas?"

"Of course, Signora." The man then looked at Carmine. "I like this one, she knows good food. You're taste is getting better, son."

Carmine smiled brittily at the waiter's retreating form, while planning to stiff him on the tip. He glanced at Laverne, and was disconcerted by the puzzled look on her face.

"You don't know, do you?" Laverne's eyes seemed to burn through him, while her voice was oddly childlike.

"Know what?"

"My Pop passed away."

Carmine felt like an icy knife ripped through his belly. A kaleidescope of images tumbled through his mind. Mr. DeFazio tipping him a quarter every Christmas for delivering his newspaper in grade school, cheering for him at his boxing matches when his own father had been too drunk to get off the couch, letting him eat free at the Pizza Bowl more times than he could count... "God, I'm so sorry, Laverne. When?" he asked, as he reached across the table to take her hand.

"The night you left," was her flat reply.

Carmine's face burned with shame. Great, he thought, Frank DeFazio treated you better than anyone else did as a kid, and what do you do? Nail his daughter and run out when she needs you the most. "I'm sorry, Laverne," he said, brokenly. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, I'm sorry I ran out--"

"Don't be," she said. "It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through, but I got through it. If you had stayed, Carmine, I never would have let you go. And that wouldn't have been right for either of us."

"But I could have--"

"No. I had to do it. I had Edna, and she was terrific." A smile crossed Laverne's face as she continued, "I lost my father that day, but in a lot of ways, I got a mother." She reached for the glass of chianti the waiter poured and took a sip. "Edna's the only one I've kept in touch with back in Milwaukee, except for swapping Christmas cards with Terri Buttafucco."

Carmine stared at her as he tried to absorb the facts that were overwhelming him.

As if in anticipation, Laverne sharply said, "I don't know anything about Shirley. Edna's never offered and I've never asked."

"I'm glad." At her puzzled look, he went on, "I'm glad we both broke free. Although, it must have been harder on you than on me, still being in Milwaukee and all." He took a sip of his chianti, and his eyes widened in surprise. This wasn't the house brand, this was the good stuff. He amended his plans to stiff Vinnie, unless of course, he charged him full price for the bottle.

She grinned. "I didn't stay in Milwaukee too long. I was on a bus to basic training in Alabama within two weeks."

He looked at her incredualy. "It was that bad?"

Laverne shook her head, as she refilled their glasses. "No. The worst was over after I quit Shotz. It was just time to go. There wasn't anything, or anybody, in Milwaukee for me. It was time for me to stand on my own two feet."

"Any regrets?"

"Nothing important. I did, however," she said, looking away, "forgive Lenny for his bit in Shirley's little scheme."

"Oh," he said, as he took a deep draught of his chianti to cover his surprise and disapointment. "Well, I guess one of us came out of the whole mess smelling like a rose," Carmine quipped, "You never could stay mad at him for long."

"No, I couldn't. But, I also couldn't forget or get over the hurt. That was another reason to leave, so he could get on with his life."

He looked at her, scanning her features for signs of deception. "You're a helluva lot bigger person than I am, Laverne. I still don't have anything good to say about either one of them."

Their entrees arrived and they ate, mostly in silence. During the meal, Carmine looked up at his companion several times, only to see Laverne blush and look away. "What?" he finally asked, "Do I have something on my face, or something disgusting between my teeth?"

"Like you could have something NOT disgusting between your teeth," she retorted, with a sparkle of the old Laverne's sarcasm.

"You keep staring at me."

"I still can't believe we ran into each other. I've thought about you a lot over the past several years."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I dunno, Laverne DeFazio surrounded by battalions of men, and she has the time to remember little old me? That's hard to believe."

Her smile turned hard, and she reached for her chianti again. "Believe it. I don't date Army guys."

"You're kidding?"

She shook her head. "The Army is where I work, and I live at whatever base I'm stationed at. It doesn't pay to fraternize and have people start talking." Her eyes darted away from his again, and he knew she wasn't thinking about military gossip.

"I'm sorry."

"You're starting to sound like a broken record, Carmine."

"I just think it's a shame you've cut yourself off..."

"Gimme a break! I didn't become a nun or anything," she snorted derisvely as she took a sip of chianti. "Besides," she said as a sly smile crept across her face, "I just don't go out with guys in the Army. I didn't say nothing about guys in the Navy, Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard..."

"I get the picture," he said, grateful to have the tension break.

"How about you? You're handsome, talented, funny, and an all in all great guy. How come no lucky girl has snapped you up yet?"

"Hey, don't jump to conclusions. I date. A lot. I'm just not exclusive with anyone, and I like it that way."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. My career comes first, and unless I've got a steady gig, I'd rather not blow what cash I have on dinner, flowers, and jewelry."

"When have you ever given a woman jewelry, Carmine?"

"I will. Y'know, one day when I'm working more steadily."

"Well, some one just got four month of steady work, my friend. What are you going to do after the tour's over?"

"Your's truly has a full-time, permanent job lined up at Disneyland."

"You're kidding? That's great!"

"Yep. I knew things would eventually work out for me in California. I'll only be doing two shows a day, four days a week; but I'm also going to start out as assistant choreographer. It's a great opportunity."

"Is that why you left New York?"

Carmine quickly took a sip of his wine, and carefully worded his answer. "No. That's not the reason. I just caught a lucky break for once, that's all." He looked into her eyes, and tried to figure out how to spin his answer. The second he made eye contact, he was done for. This was Laverne. He'd never been able to snow, bullshit, or lie to her. As confusing as their relationship had been, it had always been an honest one. "I couldn't cut it in New York, Laverne. I did okay the first few years, got some steady, if minor work in some shows. I just got too late a start to compete with a bunch of twenty year olds. Then I tore a ligament in my knee which meant no dancing at all for several months."

"I'm sorry."

"Now who's sounding like a broken record?" he teased. "I can still dance, and dance pretty well. I just can't fully commit myself physically enough to make it on Broadway." He took another sip of his wine, feeling surprisingly unburdened by his confession. Why did it seem like such a big deal? He'd had career setbacks before--plenty of them, why had he been so worried about telling Laverne? The answer struck him like a thunderbolt. He wasn't afraid of telling Laverne, so much as he'd been afraid of telling anybody? Carmine wracked his brain to remember the last time he'd had an intimate conversation with anyone, and couldn't. Well, he thought with a smirk, neither New York or L.A. are places you go to find companionship. Work, fame, and sex; yes, but intimacy was never anyone's priority.

"Hello? Earth to Carmine?"

Carmine blinked, then fixed his gaze upon Laverne's concerned face. "Sorry," he said a little sheepishly.

"What happened? You started talking about committing, then you went off into La-la land. Oh," she said, mock understanding all over her face, "I forgot. You're a guy."

"Ha ha. Very funny. You should be on stage Seargant DeFazio, not me? So, we've talked about my wonderful career. What about yours?

She shrugged non-committally. "It's okay. I've had a lot more opportunities than I would have if I had stayed back in Milwaukee. It hasn't always been a bed of roses," she added with a grimace, "but I've travelled a lot, and learned a lot. I did the right thing by enlisting," she added, as she drained her glass.

"So the military life is the life for you, eh?"

"Well," she heged as she squirmed in her seat, "I wouldn't go that far. My hitch is up in nine months, and I don't know if I'm going to reenlist."

"Really?"

"I don't know if I'm ready to commit to another five years." Laverne smirked. "Committment problems. Where have I heard that one before?"

"I don't think it's a problem to not make a promise you don't know if you'll keep."

"It's not that. The Army's been real good to me. I've learned a lot, but mostly, I've learned that I can do a hell of a lot more than I ever thought I could do." She leaned forward, and smiled at him, "I'm good at organizing things and managing people. Real good. I never would have known that before signing up, because I don't think I would have ever had the opportunity to find out. It's just... I've done a lot for the Army. I've done a lot for the officers I've been assigned too--get that smile off your face, Carmine. You know what I mean. I just think it's time I started working for me."

"Doing what?"

"Y'know how I said I'd kept in touch with Edna? Carmine nodded, and Laverne continued, "She moved out here to California about four years ago and bought into a Cowboy Bill's franchise. You ever heard of them?"

"I've never eaten there, but I drive by the one in Anaheim all the time. Southwestern food, right? Ribs and burgers?

"Yeah. Well, Edna got married two years ago, yes--again. Her husband's retired, and they want to travel more. She's looking for a managing partner to take over the franchise and eventually, buy her out."

"And she asked you?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't she?" Laverne asked, suddenly defensive. "I've got years of restaurant experience, and I know the ins and outs of running a business and managing a staff. The money I got from selling the Pizza Bowl has just been sitting around gathering interest for eight years, I could give part of it to Edna as a down payment, then finance the rest with my military benefits."

Carmine raised his once again refilled glass in a toast to her. "Congratulations, Laverne. You grew up real good."

"Don't pat me on the back yet. It's not a done deal. There are a lot of things I need to think over, and I need to double check my numbers to make sure this has a good chance of working out. But, thanks," she said, as she raised her glass in response.

Carmine opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by the first few bars of "Fly Me to the Moon" over the sound system. "I told you this was the only good Italian place in L.A. They play all-Sinatra all the time.

"It's perfect," she laughed.

"Wanna dance?"

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Can you think of a reason we shouldn't?"

Laverne shook her head. "Not a one."

As he took her into his arms on the tiny dance floor, Carmine was overwhelmed by a flood of nostalgia. He'd only danced with Laverne a handful of times back in Milwaukee due to Shirley's needy jealousy, but he'd remembered it fondly. Even though she was taller, especially in heels, he was very comfortable with her. She fit into his arms nicely, and anticipated his steps with only the slightest pressure of his hands to guide her. She was a natural, her love of dance was equal to his. More memories flooded back to Carmine as he remembered the last time he held her this closely, this intimately. He looked into her green eyes and saw what he hoped was a yearning equal to his own. Their lips were only inches apart...one little kiss, what could it hurt?



*****



Carmine rolled off of Laverne with a grunt as he tried to regain his power of speech. "Omigod," he wheezed, "That was..."

"Yeah. It was." Laverne rolled onto her side and favored him with the most satisfied smile he'd ever seen on a woman's face.

"And when you did that thing with your--"

"I thought you'd like that. By the way, I loved it when you--"

"Yeah. I kinda figured that out when you started yelping and climbing up the headboard." He grinned goofily in the darkness as the warmth of her giggle washed over him. Carmine couldn't remember when he'd ever felt so free, so happy. He cuddled up against Laverne, his arm snaking around her waist as his eyelids began to droop--only to feel her stiffen and inch away from him.

"Well," she said, as she turned on the suddenly too bright lamp on his nightstand, "I should be getting back to the base."

Confusion ran through Carmine's mind as he watched her collect the various pieces of her clothing that they'd thrown around his bedroom during their passion. "Oh. I should have realized they have bed check." A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand made him pray that Laverne wouldn't get into to much trouble with her superiors over her indiscretion.

She flashed him a quick smile. "Nah, bed check is only during basic training. As long as I'm at the auditorium by 0800, they don't care where I spend my off duty time."

"Then why?"

"I don't spend the night," she said flatly. "It's sort of a thing with me."

"Since when?"

"Since always. Well," she amended, apparently catching the knowing look in his eye, "for a long time, anyhow."

"Why?"

"I just don't, that's all. Why do you have to make a federal case out of it?" she asked, as irritation colored her voice.

"Well, it could have been fun. Y'know, waking up together, having more fun, sharing a bowl of Frosted Flakes..."

"Is that how you usually entertain your ladies?"

Carmine's face fell. "I, uh... No. No, I don't. In fact, they don't stay. I usually go to their places, then leave." He shrugged. "I never realized it before, Laverne, but you're the only woman I've ever spent the entire night with."

"Yeah, and that turned out so great," she muttered under her breath.

Carmine immediately felt his wall go up. "Well, yeah. This was fun. Thanks for a great evening, Laverne. Give me a call next time you're in town." He was going to say more. Hell, he was going to walk her out the front door, until he noticed the quiver of her lower lip in her profile as she struggled with her uncooperative pantyhose. Guilt flooded through him, another awful reminder of that night so long ago. "Hey, Laverne. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you. You don't owe me no explanations."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, Carmine. That ain't it. I don't spend the night, that's my rule--but I want to stay."

Carmine felt his chest lighten up, as if a weight had been lifted. "So, stay. What's the problem?"

She looked away, apparently more comfortable talking to his reflection in his bureau mirror than to the real thing. "The problem is, that if I stay, I won't want to leave."

"So, don't leave," he said, as surprised as anyone at the words that were freefalling out of his mouth. "Stay tonight, stay tomorrow night, and the night after that. Hell, we're going to be on tour together for four months..."

"I can't do that. I told you before, I keep my work and my personal life separate."

"Jesus, Laverne! Do you even have a personal life?"

"I go out with a lot of guys!"

"I don't mean sex. I mean, just someone--any guy who's actually important in your life?"

She looked away as if even staring at his reflection in his bureau mirror made her too vulnerable and answered, "No. I guess we're more alike than I want to admit."

"Yeah, we are. But, maybe we're ready to move past it and give ourselves a chance?" At her hesitant look, he continued, "I ain't going to rush you, and I promise I can be discreet. I can keep our working relationship separate from our personal one, and if I have to make the choice, I'll choose us over a job anyday."

"I don't know..."

"I do. Okay, you have your rule about us behaving professionally on tour. I got a rule of my own; no matter what happens between us professionally or romantically, we stay friends--and in touch. Eight years was too long to go without having someone special in my life, and I'm not going to make that mistake again."

Laverne rolled her eyes. "How can you make it all sound so reasonable?"

Carmine shook his head. "It ain't hard, because it is reasonable. We're doing it right this time, no cheating and no revenge. Just us." He cupped her chin gently and touched his lips to hers before continuing, "And I think we're worth the risk."

She smiled slowly at him, that lazy-just-tumbled-out-of-bed smile that had turned him on for years before he could even admit it to himself, and began to ease her way out of her hose. "Can you set the alarm clock for 0630? Six-thirty," she amended at his confused look. "I gotta be there by eight."

"Hmm," he murmured as she crawled underneath his sheets and into his arms, "it's good to be the talent. I don't have to be there until nine."

"You could give me a lift so I don't have to ride the bus..."

"I dunno. Someone might see us, and I promised you I'd be discreet--Ow! Hey watch it! That's a sensitive piece of top secret equipment, Seargeant DeFazio! And another thing...oh. Oh, yeah..." Carmine relaxed as Laverne's sensitive ministrations made his body dance, and realized that he felt at home for the first time in nearly a decade.


FIN














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