Bookends
By Shotzette and Missy

1967
By Shotzette

1967

Carmine Ragusa kicked the small rock as he trudged towards his apartment building. Laurel Vista used to be an inviting sight to him. It's bright, airy, Spanish-style was a stark contrast of the grim brownstones of Milwaukee. The building now looked cheap to him. Hell, all of Califonia was starting to look cheap to him, realized as he punished the pebble with another kick. No one seemed to have roots, or attachments. Everything was superficial and transcient, with people only getting close to someone as a way to stave off the loneliness until somebody better came along. Five years ago, it would have been heaven. These days, it was starting to look like a perpetually sunny hell.

Five yearas ago, the big Ragu would have loved to be surrounded by gorgeous, available, and uninhibited women. Passion and hormones without strings, what single guy in his twenties could refuse that? Now, Mr. Ragu wanted something more. He smiled grimly as he let himself into the dimly lit vestibule. Who the hell ever would have thought that a weekend with Squendolyn Squiggman would alter his perception of women permanently? Although, he reflected, Squendolyn had probably made more than her share of men permanently swear off of women all together.

Laverne, he thought with a grin. She saw it coming and the smug smile of satisfation she had flashed him in Cowboy Bill's had warmed his heart. What would he do without his best gal-friend? Speak of the devil...

"Jeez!" Laverne flattened herself against the hallway wall, her eyes bulging and her hand over her heart. "What the hell are you trying to do, Carmine? Give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry," he chuckled, taking in her panicked expression, "I didn't mean to scare you there." He glanced at his watch. "Jeez, I though I was getting in late. I hope you had a better time on your date than I did on mine," he smirked as he watched her unlock her door and walk into her apartment. He frowned when he got a better look at her outfit. Jeans and a sweatshirt? That didn't sound like the Laverne "Flaunt-it-if-you-got-it" DeFazio that he knew and lo...

"As a matter of fact," Laverne said smugly, as she turned on her lights and tossed her purse on the coffee table, "I've been with Chuck most of the night."

"Weird Chuck from your work?" Carmine stared at her in outright amazement. "I didn't know you two were, uh..."

"We're not uhh..., and we never will uhh...," she snapped. "We were both working overtime."

"You worked overtime? On a Friday night? Okay, now I really feel bad borrowing twenty bucks from you last week. I wouldn't have even asked if I'd known you were strapped for cash. Now I feel bad." He felt even worse when he remembered several times in the last month where she'd picked up the check at Cowboy Bill's. He really needed to get a better job than this singing telegram crap.

"Don't," she said shortly. "I ain't broke."

"Oh, I get it! You guys had some big super-secret, rocket-ship deadline, right?"

"No. And even if there was, I couldn't tell you about it, Carmine."

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is Laverne DeFazio, Milwaukee's favorite party girl, working on a Friday night instead of out painting the town red?"

Laverne flashed him a hollow smile, that never quite reached her eyes. "You're behind the times, Carmine. I'm no longer a party girl, and Burbank ain't no Milwaukee." She sat down on the couch, and put her feet up on the coffee table.

Carmine sat down next to her and looked at her intently, surveying with more than his usual, cursory glance. Aside from a few rushed hellos and goodbyes in the hallway, he hadn't seen much of Laverne lately. He hadn't seen much of anyone lately, he realized. While he still saw Squiggy; much more than he ever wanted, as usual; he hadn't seen hide nor greasy hair of Lenny's in ages. He was probably out working the ice cream end of the business while Squiggy worked the talent end. Hmmm... Lenny busts his hump all day selling ice cream to whiney brats all day, while Squiggy "audtions" young, desperate, starlet-hopefuls. Yeah, that sounded like the type of arrangement Lenny would let himself get suckered into. Poor bastard.

"Carmine?" Laverne's nasal voice brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly, "woolgathering."

"I know the feeling."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence as he once again looked her over. She'd lost weight, weight she didn't need to lose despite spending years bemoaning the fact she was a size ten. There were circles around her usually active eyes, and a general haggardness to her face.

"What?" she snapped, apparently unnerved by his scrutiny.

"What's really wrong, Laverne?"

"Nothing's wrong! I'm just putting in some overtime so I'll have a few bucks to squirrel away. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You said earlier that you were doing okay."

"I am! But, I need to start saving more, being more responsible, being independent..."

"Where's all this coming from, Laverne? You're very good with money, plus, you're a hard worker. You've always had some kind of job, even back in high school."

"It's not enough," she flared, as she squirmed on the couch in agitated, jerky motions. "I just need to start paying more attention to things, Carmine. If you haven't noticed, she said, as she gestured around the quiet apartment, "I'm on my own now, for the first time ever."

Carmine winced. He wasn't the only one still smarting from Shirley's impulsive exit three months ago.

"I just need to start planning things better, Carmine," Laverne continued, as worry creased her brow. "I ain't getting any younger, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually making enough so I'm not living hand to mouth."

"And that's terrific, Laverne. You'd think that would make you happier. Don't you like your job anymore?"

She smiled again, and for a brief moment, the worry left her eyes. "I actually like it a lot. I've got a lot of opportunities for advancement, and I'm actually getting paid to think instead of wrap other people's presents, or cap bottles all day."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I forgot to pay the phone bill," she said in a small voice.

"And?"

"And, they shut my phone off for two whole days!"

"You got it turned back on though, didn't you?' he asked, feeling a little guilty for not calling her.

"Yeah, but that's not the point. It was Shirley's turn to pay it."

"Shirley don't live here anymore, Laverne," he said softly.

"Don't you think I don't know that? I know that better than anyone, 'cept maybe you, Carmine." Her face reddened slightly and she looked at her hands as her fingers twisted nervously, "Sorry," she mumbled.

"S'okay," he mumbled thickly. "We've both had to make adjustments."

"The point is, I need to start relying only on me. I can't count on anyone else to take care of me, and I just need to start using my head more."

Concern filled his heart. "Laverne, don't talk like that! You've got a lot to offer a guy, and I know you ain't seeing anyone now, but you're just going through a dry spell."

"You don't get it," she stated flatly. "Carmine, I don't want some guy to take care of me! I don't want to have to rely on anyone to do that! And," she continued, as her eyes focused on a point behind him, "let's face it. There might not be a Mr. Right in my future. I need to prepare for that, to."

Realization slowly dawned on Carmine. "This is about Sonny, isn't it."

Something unidentifiable flashed through Laverne's green eyes, before she glanced away. "Yeah, Sonny," she mumbled, as she started to pick imaginary bits of lint off of the sofa.

"Are you sorry you didn't accept his proposal?"

Now, the emotion clearly running through her eyes was surprise. "What? How did--"

"Who do you think helped him pick out the ring?"

Laverne closed her eyes and sank back into the couch, as if boneless. "Don't tell me about it. I didn't want to see it and I sure don't want to hear about." Another awkward silence fell between them.

"It was nice," Carmine said, bringing the quiet to an end.

"Carmine!" Laverne whined.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he reached out and wrapped a muscular arm around her shoulders. He wasn't surprised when she collapsed sobbing onto his chest.

"Carmine, it was awful," she sniffled, her voice muffled. "He-he was so nice! And so cute! And he loved me, Carmine. He really loved me, and he'd always be there for me."

He said nothing, but merely stroked her back as he rocked her back and forth gently. Damn it, he thought, why couldn't love work out for anybody? He knew how deeply Sonny had been in love with Laverne. Hell, when they were roomates, the big lug couldn't stop yapping about her. It should have annoyed him, but more often than not, he found himself nodding in agreement with Sonny. Laverne was one helluva woman.

"Why, Carmine?" She pulled away from him, as her red rimmed eyes looked at him beseechingly, "Why couldn't I love Sonny? What's wrong with me?"

He gave her a gentle shake. "There ain't nothing wrong with you, Laverne. When it's there, it's there. When it ain't..." He broke off and looked away from her briefly before continuing. "I got Sonny's number in Hawaii. Do you want to call him?"

She shook her head violently. "No, I hurt him enough already. And, as awful as I feel about it, I'm still not in love with him."

Carmine let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Emotions, long thought buried, started to resurface, only to be ruthlessly pushed down into his gut. Fortunately, her loud hiccup drew his attention back to the present.

"Sorry," she said, blushing. "I always get the hiccups when I cry." She stood up and took a deep breath, as she slowly seemed to right herself and regain her self control. "I'm gonna get a drink of water, want anything?" She headed into the kitchen.

"Only if you got something stronger than water." When she returned a few seconds later, with a bottle of chianti, he grinned. "That wouldn't be some of the good stuff your Grandma sends your Pop from Brooklyn, would it?"

"It's actually from his cousin in Tuscany. He just automatically sends everything to Grandma first."

The apartment was silent for a while, the only noises being the clink of their juice glasses as they toasted their mutual melancholy. "You're gonna meet the right guy someday, Laverne. You know that, don't you?"

"Maybe I already have," she mumbled, her words obscured further by her glass. "Maybe I already let Mr. Right slip through my fingers."

"You can't think that way, Laverne. You got a great future ahead of you and there's a great guy to go with it."

"Thanks, Shirley," she replied, her sarcasm evident.

"Well," he said, setting his glass down with a loud thud, "I guess you are feeling better. Glad I could help." He stood up and started towards the door, only to have her dash in front of him, regret evident on her face."

"I'm sorry, Carmine. I didn't mean it that way."

He looked away, not trusting his own voice at the moment. Damnit, he needed to get past this. Past Shirley.

"Please," Laverne gestured back to the couch, "Stay."

He allowed her to lead him back to the couch, and took a deep draught of his chianti before saying anything. "I'm sorry to. I shouldn't let things get to me like that." He ran his hand over his eyes, hoping Laverne wouldn't notice they were a little redder now than they were a few minutes ago. By the look in her eyes, he knew she noticed. By the sad smile she gave him, he knew she was pretending she didn't.

"We're one helluva pair, aren't we? You can't stop loving someone and I can't start."

"Don't say that about yourself, Laverne. You've gotta lot of love in you."

"Do I? I couldn't love Sal enough to marry him. I couldn't love Sonny enough to accept his proposal after we--" she broke off, hastily downing most of her chianti in one gulp before pouring herself a second.

He took another swig of his own drink, to cover his embarrassment before saying anything. Poor Sonny! He knew things had gone bad, but not this bad. Making love to the woman of your dreams, only to face the ultimate rejection within an hour? No wonder Sonny was so tight-lipped when Carmine had given him a ride to the airport.

Then again, maybe he shouldn't be in such a hurry to pity Sonny. Sonny wasn't dumb enough to date the same girl off and on for a dozen years without getting past second base. A girl, who made no secret of the fact that all she wanted out of life was to be a doctor's wife. A girl who made herself phyically unavailable to him, except for the rare occassions when she needed a favor. And he'd always come running, his tongue hanging out like a goddamn dog. Like Charlie Brown believng that Lucy would actually hold the football for him, even after she'd jerked it away a thousand times before. He was such a chump! He didn't know who was more startled by the sound of the glass cracking in his hand, him or Laverne.

"Jesus, Carmine!" Laverne shrieked, as she yanked him off the couch and led him bleeding to the sink. "Get your hand under the faucet!" she hollered, as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets before triumphantly pulling out a first aid kit.

Carmine concentrated on the sensation of the cold water on his wounded hand. There were two good sized cuts, but nothing major. Nothing that would require stitches. He fought the slight dizziness away, and stepped away from the sink, leaning back against the refrigerator. He was dimly aware of Laverne toweling his hand dry, and the sensation of her warm hands on his cold flesh. He didn't even flinch at the sting of the methyolade, just closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her tearing the Band-Aid wrappers. When he finally opened his eyes, her concerned green eyes held him hostage, as his heart melted. God, it was finally nice to have someone come to his rescue for a change... Without thinking, he reached out to her face with his good hand. He saw a flicker in her eyes and realized she had felt the mood change just like he had. Her cheeks flushed as she immediately looked at the floor and backed up, and away from him. He quickly shifted direction and picked up the methyolade bottle, and pretended to read it's directions.

"C'mon," she said in a strained tone, "you should sit down for a while."

He allowed her to gently pull him to the couch, trying to ignore the sensation of the floor shifting under his feet. Instinctively, he reached for his half empty glass of chianti.

"Oh no, you don't," Laverne said while she nimbly plucked the glass from his hand and replaced it with her half drunk glass of water. "You're loopy enough."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I broke your glass, I'll get you another one."

She snorted in response. "Don't bother. Shirley and I got them from the Esso station down the street. Jeez," she said, concern evident in her eyes, "I'm sorry I mentioned her name. Again."

Carmine flashed a quick, superficial grin, that felt as hollow as the rest of him lately. "I can't ask you to never mention your best friend's name again, Laverne. That wouldn't be fair of me, would it?"

"I knew you were still hung up on her, but I didn't know it was this bad." She stood up and started to pace, agitation radiating from her. "Why didn't you say anything, Carmine? Why didn't you try to stop her from marrying Walter, if you still had feelings for her?"

"When? When did I have a chance, Laverne? He defiantly took a drink of his chianti, while looking at her with baleful eyes.

"Gee, I dunno? Maybe when the rent-a-minister asked if anyone had any objections?"

"I couldn't do that to her, you know that. All her life, Shirley wanted to marry a doctor. It wasn't a secret or nothing! I couldn't let her throw away her dream."

"So you just let the woman you love slip through your fingers? You're a good guy, Carmine, but nobody's that noble."

"Nobility had nothing to do with it, Laverne." Angrily, he chugged the rest of his wine and used the time spent refilling his glass to carefully select his words. "Let's face it, Shirley and I broke up with each other."

"That was just a temporary thing--"

"That's what I thought at the time, and maybe, if she hadn't gotten married, that's what it would have been. But, she did get married, Laverne. She married a stranger with a medical diploma and is now carrying his child. Then she left." Laverne opened her mouth, but he quickly cut her off, "It was the big good bye for her. I didn't have a clue. I thought we were just going through another one of our seeing other people phases. Again." The glass of wine in front of him grew blurry, as he took a shuddering breath. He felt the couch cushions shift under him, and smelled her perfume before Laverne's arms encircled him.

"I'm sorry," she said, thickly.

He said nothing. He just returned her embrace and let himself get lost in her warmth, all the while knowing he was holding her too long for a friend. She apparently sensed it as well, for Carmine felt himself shoved away from her. He opened his mouth to apologize, when he noticed the forbidden emotion behind her angry green eyes. He pulled her closer to him, noting that she wasn't resisting him, merely steeling herself as she waited for the inevitable. Carmine's lips covered her's in a soft kiss. He felt her relax in his arms as the kiss deepened. Emboldened, his tongue gently teased her open mouth as his hand cupped the back her head and pressed her lips more forceably against his own. The added stimulation proved to be too much, and she shoved him away, panting.

"We can't," she gasped, as the words from her lips warred with the need on her face. "I'm not going down this road with you again, Carmine."

"Why?" he whispered harshly, as he pulled her closer to him, while pressing her down against the couch. "Who are we hurting this time? No one, that's who."

"Shirley's my best friend," she whined, as she wriggled out of his grasp and leapt to her feet.

"I ain't her boyfriend no more, Laverne. Unless of course, Walter's a little more open minded than I give him credit for."

"This isn't funny!" She took deep breath and looked at him in askance. Never before had he seen her more vulnerable, or more desirable. "You just want what you can't have, Carmine. It's always been that way. You wanted Shirley when you couldn't have her. Now that you have your freedom and could have anyone of the gorgeus starlets you see, you miss Shirley. Hell," she said brokenly, "the only reason you probably wanted me all those years ago was the fact I was Shirley's best friend, and off limits."

"You're wrong, Laverne. I only miss Shirley out of habit. But, I do miss having someone actually care about me. Someone who I can connect with, that's more than just a pretty face." Her replying snort irritated him, and he grabbed her and pulled her to him roughly. "Stop it! Stop putting yourself down, Laverne."

"Don't use the "you're-a-pretty-girl" line and expect it to work on me, Carmine. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, y'know."

"I know that. I know it better than anyone. No Laverne, you're not a pretty girl. You are a beautiful and really smart woman, and any guy would have to be a total moron to not want to be with you."

"That's me, always chasing the morons," she mumbled.

He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Do you love Sonny? Is he the guy you want to be with?"

A strange look flashed across her face before she answered him. "No, Carmine. Sonny's not the man I want."

"You're my best gal-friend, you know that, don't you?" At her nod, he continued, "Neither one of us are cheaters, Laverne. If we were, betraying Shirley wouldn't have ripped our guts out the way it did back in Milwaukee." His jaw clenched, and he forced a steadiness into his voice that he didn't completely feel, "Shirley's not in the picture anymore. For either one of us. You don't want Sonny, I don't want Shirley. Tell me, Laverne. Who are we hurting?" That strange look flickered in her green eyes again. When he opened his mouth to ask, she immediately shushed him with a finger against his lips.

"No one, Carmine," she said in a voice that seemed far away. "There's no one who matters to me." Her steely tone was a marked contrast to the warmth of her kiss.

He moaned against her mouth as they sank to the couch. God, it felt so good to be with a woman who wanted to touch him! Even better since he knew that his touches pleased her, that she didn't fend off each caress. That was Laverne, he realized. She was honest. If she wanted a guy, she wanted a guy. Not a meal ticket, not someone who could open doors in a ritzier world for her--just the guy. He grinned as his hands began to roam more aggressively. Only to be suddenly stopped by her hands pressing against his shoulders. He broke the kiss angrily. How could she, of all people, play one of Shirley's cruel games? Carmine opened his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable command to go take a cold shower. All he saw was Laverne's face, her eyes aglow with hunger.

"Upstairs?" she whispered.

He blinked as his mind clicked back into gear. "You sure?" He winced at the raspy and desperate sound of his usual clear tenor.

"Yes." She looked away and blinked rapidly as she continued, "We're good friends and we'd be cheating ourselves if we were too scared to see if we could be more to each other."

Wordlessly, he rolled off of her and scooped her up into his arms. Carmine smiled as the combination of tenderness and lust warred in his soul before carrying her up the stairs.

They had just crossed the threshold of her bedroom, when Laverne drew away from the kiss. "Do you have, uhh..."

Shamefacedly, he shook his head. He kicked himself mentally for using the emergency rubber in his wallet on that blonde he met at a party two night's earlier. Yeah, Lisa...Linda? Whatever. For the entire twenty minutes they spent together going at it like rabbits in the upstairs powder room, she'd been a dream come true. Afterwards? She didn't ask him to call her, and he sure as hell didn't volunteer. Damn it, he and Laverne weren't even a couple yet, and he was feeling guilty for thinking about other woment. That had to be a good sign, right?

"Well then," she stammered, as her cheeks flushed again and she gestured toward the bathroom, "I need to go put something--do something," she explained lamely, as her uncomfortable expression told the real story.

He nodded in agreement and set her on her feet gently. She headed toward the bathroom, and turned around, flashing him a surprisingly shy smile, before closing the door between them.

Carmine looked around the bedroom nervously. He'd been in there a handful of times before; just to talk, or to fix something for the girls. Certainly nothing juicier, he thought with more than a trace of bitterness. His eyes fell on the biggest change the room had undergone since Shirley's departure, Laverne's new double bed. He gulped nervously at the bed, and it's implications.

It was really going to happen, he realized. He was going to spend the night in this bedroom. But, not with Shirley. Guilt nibbled at his gut. Were they going to fast, trying too hard? Was he endangering one of the most genuine friendships he'd ever had in his life?

He heard the door knob turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Laverne had come to her senses as well. She was going to throw him out of her bedroom, and they were both going to pretend this crazy night never happened. They would be at Cowboy Bill's within the week with Rhonda, Squiggy, Lenny, and Mr. DeFazio; and everything would be the same as it ever was. No major changes, no risks, no--

His breath caught in his throat at he sight of her standing in the doorway, clad only in something black and sheer. She smiled at him seductively as she glided across the floor into his arms. As Carmine's greedy hands stroked her body, a body that was toned from years of dancing and sports, he couldn't for the life of him remember why their being together had seemed like a bad idea.

*****

Laverne forced herself to relax as Carmine's steadying breaths told her he had fallen asleep. A grin escaped her as she looked down at the handsome face next to hers on the pillow. His frequent "breaks" from Shirley had given Carmine Ragusa quite an education, if her much needed relaxed state was any indication. Carmine was a wonderful lover. And a great guy. And a great friend, first and foremost. Maybe she had been right earlier, great friends can be more? Maybe true love doesn't always come knocking at your door right away? Maybe it can be disguised as friendship? Lenny Kosnowski's face flashed before her eyes before she forced the image away. It was a skill she'd worked on perfecting in the last few months.

Carmine was a great guy, she repeated to herself. He was a real friend. He'd never rip her guts out at her lowest point out of selfishness. He was a giver. He was a rock. He was someone who could be a wonderful boyfriend, perhaps even more? She snuggled against Carmine's bare, muscular chest and closed her eyes.

Then she tried her damndest not to dream about Lenny.

FIN



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