Bookends
By Shotzette and Missy

1979
Part 1
By Shotzette




Laverne shoved a knuckle into her mouth and made every effort not to scream. Aunt Luisa was coming. The woman her Pop said would never come in a million years since she had never even left Brooklyn.

Aunt Luisa was coming to her wedding.

Aunt Luisa RSVP-ed two weeks after the deadline, and was bringing a "friend".

Laverne groaned aloud. Yet another call had to be placed to the caterer, and two more chickens had to be ordered.

As happy as she was that her Pop finally had retired, and seemed to be enjoying his free time courting the wide variety of elderly widows in his apartment complex, Laverne selfishly wished he still ran a restaurant. It would have made planning the reception a lot easier. And cheaper.

Then again, she reasoned, she shouldn't complain. If it hadn't been for her Pop calling in a few favors from some of his restaurant buddies, she and Lenny would be paying a heckuva lot more than they were for their reception

She was glad her Pop was able to come through for her. Now, if he could only keep it up. He'd been wonderful, for the most part. His joy in (finally) seeing his thirty nine year old daughter tie the knot overrode the facts that she was marrying a man who already had a child, but had never been married before; that she and said man had been cohabitating for the last three months since the lease had run out on her apartment; and she wasn't getting married in the Church.

But, asking him to give her away while standing beside his ex-wife may have been going to the well one too many times. For the umpteenth time that day, Laverne threw out a general prayer to whatever god or spirit may be listening, that her father wuold be civil to Edna. Or, at he very least, not cause too much of a scene.

Good God, she thought. I don't know how Edna went through this six times. She was ready to tear her hair out.

It'll be better when Shirley gets here, she reminded herself. She'll take charge of the details, as always, and I'll be able to think straight again.

"Oh, Laverne," an annoying sing-song voice called out.

Laverne gritted her teeth. She had actually managed in the last several years to forget how irritating Squiggy could be, and he had apparently used the time to cultivate new annoying personality quirks.

"What?"

"Where do you keep your extra guest towels?"

"Squig, Lenny only has six towels. What did you do with the one I gave you yesterday?"

"It's in the laundry. I didn't know I was going to be expected to use the same towel for the whole time I was here."

Laverne opened her mouth, then immediately closed it as she choked back the words she wanted to say and counted to ten instead. She tried to forget that she knew for a fact that Squiggy used to wear the same used underwear for four days straight, and that neither she, nor Lenny expected him to arrive in Burbank the week before the wedding and expect to stay with them.

Instead, she simply said, "Take the pink on hanging on the back of the door. I'll wash them all later today," as she mentally added another task to the to-do list from Hell.

"Y'know," he called from the bathroom, "Patty does a load everyday before she goes to work and one at night so's we always has clean stuff."

Yet another reason to hate Patty.

Patty Klaustein. Or as Squiggy called her, his "love slave". Part of Laverne hoped she'd never meet this creature who, according to Squiggy, was a fantastic cook, supported him while he was trying to get his arcade off of the ground, and put herself though nursing school working as a stripper. And for some reason, the poor addled soul thought Squiggy was the second coming.

She gave women everywhere a bad name.

Between the "Patty" references every five minutes, Squiggy's snoring on the couch every night, and Skye's shrieks of abject terror everytime she saw him; the week before their wedding was transforming into a horror that neither she, nor Lenny, could have ever imagined.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then smiled as she looked up at the dress hanging in the corner. Her wedding gown was hanging on a similiar hook at her father's apartment, safely enshrouded in plastic wrap. But, plastic wrap or no, there was no way in hell she was going to store her wedding gown in the same apartment as Lenny, Squiggy, and a five-year old. Laverne smiled as she looked at the beautiful lavender gown she'd picked out for Shirley to wear. Her best friend deserved something she'd wear again, and Shirley's dress had cost almost as much as Laverne's.

As she fingered the pastel chiffon gown, Laverne hoped Shirley wouldn't be angry she had purchased a size seven, but after having three kids, Laverne knew ther was no way on God's green earth that Shirley was still a size five. Anymore than she herself was still an eight, she thought, as she guiltily remembered the previous night's Scooter Pie binge.

Her smile dropped another notch as she mentally went over the guest list one more time n her head. With less than twenty people, the wedding would be small. But, with their friends, the drama wasn't in the quanitity as much as the volatility of the personalities involved. More to the point, she sincerely hoped Shirley would be okay with Carmine being there. If, of course, Mr. Ragusa ever deigned to honor them with a definite yes or no on attending the wedding.

As irritated as she was, Laverne didn't have the heart to pressure Carmine for a decision. She knew it wouldn't be easy for him, attending her wedding, seeing their smiling faces, and seeing his former flame; all on the heels of his separation and impending divorce. Still, if she had to throw one more last minute curve ball to the caterer, he'd kill her.


*****

Carmine Ragusa clutched his daughter's hand tightly as they made their way down the ramp to the Pan Am baggage claim. The five hour flight had been a nightmare. He had never realized how difficult it was to entertain a five year old for five hours straight. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had been alone with Marianne for just one hour.

No Anita, no nanny, no babysitter. Not even a freaking television set to entertain his daughter and allow him to gather what was left of his wits. As much as it hurt to admit his soon-to-be ex-wife was right, Carmine could no longer run away from the truth.

He was clueless as a father.

He stuck out his chin stubbornly and squared his shoulders. His days of parental incompetence would be over, hopefully soon. That's what the move back to Los Angeles was all about. True, "Sands Through the Hourglass" was offering him a small fortune to continue playing Dr. Joe Camillucci, Mafia-Boss turned OB/GYN for three more years; but that would mean three more years of sixty hour weeks and his little free time eaten up by memorizing twenty pages of dialogue a day and three contract-mandated personal appearances per month.

All in all, it was a miracle his marriage to Anita lasted as long as it did.

The one thing he and Anita had agreed on in the last year was that his moving to L.A. and becoming Marianne's full-time parent was in everyone's best interest. California would give Marianne the opportunity to play outside year round, and live in a nice house with a big back yard. As nice and large,as the co-op on Central Park West was, it was no place to raise a kid. Carmine briefly thought back to his childhood, growing up in a tiny apartment in Milwaukee in the forties. Times were different then, though. He knew his neighbors growing up, and knew there would always be an adult to step in and smack him in the head (or worse, tell his parents) if he got out of line.

Let Marianne play outside on the streets of New York alone in the seventies? Fat chance.

Carmine taking full custody of Marianne would also allow Anita the time she needed to try to reestablish her acting career while there was still time. At thirty-nine, the world was still Carmine's oyster. At thirty, Anita's clock was ticking. It was only a matter of time before she became forever banished to "youthful mother of teen heart-throb" roles.

In other words, as good as dead.

Carmine's train of thought was interrupted when a bony hand clutched his forearm. Instinctively, he squared off with the stranger while shoving Marianne behind him.

The elderly woman in the rhinestone speckled bifocals and rust-colored, double-knit pantsuit shrieked, "Gertrude! It's him! I was right, and you said I needed a new prescription," she scolded as a second little old lady (this one with lavender hair and bizarrely pointy-toed tennis shoes trotted up behind her. "It's Dr. Camillucci!"

Automatically, the Ragusa grin snapped into place. Placating the fans was all part of the game. There was a strong correllation in daytime television between male hearthrobs who treated their fans with respect, and those who came to horrible ends. Horrible ends meaning your character dies and the body IS recovered.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said, smooth as silk.

"Dr. Camillucci, I adore you!" the woman in the pantsuit swooned. "I cried for days when you had to sign those committment papers to have poor Genevieve institutionalized."

"As did I," he replied, with a straight face.

The other woman pushed her way in front of her friend, absurdly reminding Carmine of a much older Laverne and Shirley.

"Dr. Camillucci," she began, before breaking off and looking into his eyes with a rather unnerving stare,"may I call you Joe?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Joe," she continued, "I have to level with you. Raquel is not carrying your baby. She had a fling with your awful brother Caesar and the child is his. You remember, you were trapped in the avalanche in the Himalayans when you went in search of the sherpa who killed your father?"

"I remember. That was one crazy week."

"Who's Raquel?" a tiny voice piped up behind him.

Shit... He'd forgotten Marianne was there. Some father he was. What the heck could the poor kid be thinking at this point?

"Ladies," he said, as he turned back to them, "As much as I hate to, I must be off. Could I sign an autograph? Or two?" The words weren't even out of his mouth before he had two boarding passes shoved under his nose. He quickly scribbled on each of them with his ever present Mont Blanc, and was briskly walking away with Marianne in tow.

As they made their way to the chauffeur holding a cardboard sign reading "Mr. Ragusa", Carmine faintly heard the second woman say to the first, "I don't think that was really him, Gladys. He spelled Camillucci wrong!"

Marianne waited until they were safely in the back seat of the limo before piping up again. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Angelface?"

"Who were those ladies?"

Carmine winced before answering. Well, if Marianne was going to be out with him on a regular basis, stuff like this would have to be addressed. "Those ladies were some of Daddy's fans."

"Oh." She bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow before asking, "What are fans?"

"Fans are people who watch Daddy's TV show." At her perplexed look, he continued, "You know, "Sands Through the Hourglass"?"

Marianne shook her head.

"Marianne, do you know what Daddy does for a living?"

"You go to a office?"

Christ. His own kid thought he was Ward Cleaver. "No, Angelface. Daddy is an actor. He's like one of those people you see on TV."

Her cherubic face brightened instantly. "Like the guy on "Happy Days"?"

"Yes," he said, as he nodded in agreement, "but Daddy has talent!" His smile fell a notch as he asked, "All that time you and Mommy spent at home, and she never showed you Daddy's show?"

"Mommy says TV is all junk these days."

Thanks, Anita. He then winced at the thought of his tiny daughter being exposed to the lurid drama that paid their bills. Way to parent, Ragusa.

Geez... He wondered if Laverne knew what she was getting into. It was tough enough raising a daughter, but a step-daughter? Lenny's daughter? There's no way that kid could be anywhere near normal.

He groaned aloud. Fortunately, Marianne was now chatting up the chauffeur (the man's name was Tom, and his favorite color was blue), and didn't notice.

A wedding. Just what he was not in the mood for these days.

Even if it was a couple who he thought may have a snowball's chance in hell of making it, he wouldn't want to go. And this was Laverne and Lenny.

He never thought that would happen in a million years. Oh, he knew Lenny had crush on Laverne ever since grade school, but it had always been one-sided. Laverne had always tolerated Lenny, much the same as she tolerated Squiggy. Barely.

But, married? To each other? The last time he and Laverne had any serious conversation about Lenny was more than ten years ago. He knew that she and Lenny had some sort of fight, but Laverne had never been willing to discuss it. Then again, it happened right around the time Laverne and Sonny split up, and he didn't feel right pressing her for details.

God, she had been devastated when she and Sonny split up. She had cried for days on his shoulder, weeks almost. She had almost been as hurt and shell shocked as she had been when Randy died four years earlier.

Then, a few short weeks later, it had been his turn to cry on her shoulder when Shirley up and married Walter. The brief fling he immersed himself in with...Christ, he couldn't even remember her name, ended less than a week later.

Then Shirley was gone.

Maybe her leaving was a good thing. It would have killed him to see her happy with her new husband, growing large with Walter's child instead of his.

Laurel Vista Apartments was such a happy place when they all moved in. Yet, by the time he left for New York, the memories were so painful that he hated going home at night.

He never regretted moving to New York. It would have been far too painful to stay and have history repeat itself.


*****


"Whaddya mean a rocket pop is sixty-five cents?"

"Sorry," Lenny replied, "but I had to raise the prices two months ago. Inflation, y'know."

The sulky young woman pulled another dime out of her criminally tight Calvin Kleins, all the while looking at Lenny like he was personally responsible for the fiscal woes of the country. As she took the rocket pop and stalked off, she fired one more barb over her shoulder, "And to think, me and my friends used to think you were kinda cute when we were kids."

Great. Mean and no longer (if ever) attractive to women in their twenties.

And broke, he reminded himself. Don't forget you're broke.

Like he could. The ice cream truck business wasn't raking in the cash like it used to. Not that he ever thought he could get rich selling it, but he'd always been able to make a decent living and keep a roof over his and Skye's heads after they left the commune.

Things were different now. More moms were working, which meant less spare change and kids having someone to whine at; two of his staple marketing tools. Attitudes changed to. No longer was the independent ice cream man welcomed with open arms in neighborhoods. Most people these days looked at him like he was some sort of creepy pervert who couldn't wait to throw their children in his truck.

His old Lone Wolf jacket would have been the nail in the degenerate coffin. He was glad it was too warm to need it most days.

He was late on his payments to his suppliers. That didn't worry him at first. He'd been late in the past, but he'd always paid by the second notice. Unfortunately, his suppliers didn't send out fourth and fifth notices. They just cut him off cold. A few of his remaining regulars had complained about the freezer burn on the Nutty Buddies, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep trying to sell them before pitching them. As much as he hated disappointing his regulars, he'd hate getting a citation from the Health Department even more.

He'd been through tough times before, and had always gotten though them. He and Skye never had a lot, but they always had a place to live and enough scraps to feed that damn cat. Until recently, he thought he was doing okay.

That was until...Laverne moved in.

He'd been helping her move her stuff out of her old apartment. He hadn't even been snooping. Well, okay, a little. That dog-eared copy of "The Sensuous Woman" in her underwear drawer was just too good to ignore.

He wished with all his heart he had stopped at that point.

But no, he had to keep looking until he found it. One of Laverne's paystubs. The thing that proved that she made nearly twice what he did, on a good day.

At that point, nothing in his life looked good enough. His apartment, which he had liked just fine until then, now was too small and the neighborhood wasn't nearly a safe enough place to raise a family in.

He'd always been proud of the way he'd taken care of Skye, but now he knew Laverne could have done it better. Hell, she was doing so well at her job, and he was doing so lousy at his, there's no way she could quit and have kids. He'd have to stay home with another kid, and he knew Laverne would hate that. She and Shirley had always wanted to find guys to marry so they could quit their jobs and start families. And Laverne had waited longer than most.

Maybe Karen had always known he wasn't good enough. Maybe she just couldn't take it anymore, and that's what made her up and leave him that night. Just like his mom did.

How long would it take Laverne to figure it out? Figure she could do better than have some broke loser tie her down.

Lenny looked at his ancient Timex and groaned aloud. It was time to head home. Carmine was supposed to fly in from New York this morning and was going to have dinner with them since he might not be able to go the the wedding.

Dinner in his cruddy apartment with a old friend who was now a famous TV star.

Great. Just the perfect end to the perfect day.

*****

Breathe, she said to herself. Just keep breathing and you may live through this whole freaking circus. Laverne closed her eyes, then inhaled through her nose and exhaled deeply through her mouth, the way the guy on that yoga show did. When she opened her eyes, the once loud living room was quiet. And everyone was staring at her.

Smiling sheepishly at her loved ones, she simply mumbled, "Nerves."

At once, Carmine was at her side, smiling broadly, though his eyes looked tense. "You're a bride, you're entitled to be nervous. Heck, in your case, you're more than entitled."

"Carmine," she said tightly, through the phony smile on her face.

"Just teasing you, Laverne. Just teasing. Say, when's the happy groom to be gonna show up?"

"I'm sure Lenny just got tied up in traffic. You remember how rush hours are in L.A., don't you,
Carmine?" Privately, Laverne hoped that's all it was. Lenny had been acting odd lately, even for him. At first, she'd attributed it to pre-wedding jitters. It wasn't like she was the cover girl for Sanity Fair these days, either.

But, when she thought about it, his behavior had changed ever since she had moved into his apartment. She was happy living here. It was a little cramped, of course. But, nothing they couldn't handle. Besides, they were planning on moving to a bigger unit in the building in two months when Lenny's lease expired.

Maybe he wasn't coping as well as she was? Maybe he and Skye had been on their own so long, he forgot what it was like to live with another grown up full time? Maybe he didn't want to share his home, or his life anymore?

She shook her head, to clear away the dark pictures she was painting. She was overreacting, she told herself. She was just sleep deprived, stressed out, and ready to get the whole thing over with so she could get down to the everyday, dull, predictable, and wonderful routine of marriage and stepmotherhood. She was tired of all this wedding hullabaloo. Years ago,
when she and Shirley had dreamed of their weddings, they were elaborate events; attended by one and all. And they had seemed like fun.

Yet another shrill shreik dragged Laverne's attention to the here and now. A yelp of that pitch could only mean two things. Either Skye and Marianne were fighting, again; or Squiggy and Rhonda were going at it hammer and tong again.

Laverne smiled as she looked at her old friend. Rhonda had changed a lot since moving to Vegas. The once statuesque, bimbo-ey, blond was now the very blond, but tough as nails business woman. Gone were the inch and a half long nails and Bambi-eyelashes, and the tight capri pants and crop tops had been replaced with a severe business suit that seemed to enhance Rhonda's Barbie-doll like proportions even more.

After clawing her way to the top of the choreography ladder, Rhonda had amazed everyone by announcing she had squirreled away enough cash to buy her own hotel. The Glitter wasn't on the main drag, and it wasn't the most popular venue in town. However, within a year the business was solidly in the black, and the permanent home of the Rhondettes, a strip show that
gave the girls at the Riviera a run for their money. Rhonda had found her niche, Laverne thought, and she built it in a place that made Los Angeles look real by comparison.

Forcing a smile, Laverne got off the couch and once again separated the feuding six year olds. "Now what?"

"Skipper doll is mine," Skye growled savagely, eyeing Marianne with contempt.

"I wanna play with her!" screeched Marianne, in a pitch that made the hair on the back of Laverne's neck stand up.

"If you two can't share Skipper doll," Laverne barked in a tone that would have made Harriet Nelson cry, "neither one of you can play with her. How do you like that?" With that, Laverne picked up Barbie's little sister and deposited her on the top shelf of the cupboard. With the eight other toys she had conviscated from the girls that night.

As the anguished wails of the girls reached it's horrifying crescendo, the apartment door opened. Laverne ran through the cramped and crowded apartment and hugged Lenny tightly as he walked through the door. "Where the hell have you been?", she whispered harshly in his ear, as she pulled herself up in pretense for a kiss.

"You said to be home by six, and it's six."

"No! I said be home before six since people would probably arrive early," she said through gritted teeth.

"What's the big deal? It's not like there's anyone here we need to impress, is there?" Lenny tossed the mail on the kitchen counter, and walked into the living area.

"Lenny!" Carmine said, as he ran up and gave his old friend a hearty handshake and a slap on the shoulder.

"Hey, Carmine," was the only reply. Then Lenny turned and addressed the rest of the group. "I'm sorry I was late, folks. I hope your all not too hungry. I don't know what Laverne cooked, but it smells great..."

"I was way too busy today to eat a package of crackers, much less make dinner for a crowd." Laverne couldn't hold back the bitter edge in her voice. "Luckily, Carmine picked up some take out for everyone. There's a lot of leftover moo goo gai pan and sweet and sour pork in the kitchen, Lenny."

"Leftovers. Great." With that, he shuffled off into the kitchen, apparently oblivious to the puzzled faces around him.

"Well," said Laverne, a little too brightly, "we're all finally accounted for." Reaching for her third, or fourth glass of wine for the evening, she ran her hands over her tired face as she sank back onto the couch.

"Y'know," Frank DeFazio said quietly to the two crying children, "little girls that cry and throw temper tantrums don't get to hear bedtime stories..."

That shut them up. "A story? Please, please, please, please..." chanted Skye. Marianne then upped the ante by hugging Frank, although she couldn't get her tiny arms around his round belly.

"Well, if you're good..." Frank said, as he winked at his daughter and scooped both girls up, depositing one on each hip. "Once upon a time, in a place called..."

"Milwaukee!" interrupted Skye, as she looked triumphantly at Marianne.

"Yes, Peanut. Milwaukee. But don't interrupt, it ain't polite. Once upon a time, in a place called, Milwaukee, there lived three naughty children..."

"I thought it was two naughty children?" interrupted Skye again, "their names were Lenny and Laverne."

"Yes, Peanut. But Lenny and Laverne had a very naughty friend named Carmine..."

Marianne clapped her hands gleefully, as Frank carried the two girls into Skye's bedroom.

Smiling and shaking his head, Carmine looked at Laverne and asked, "Where the hell was that nice man when we were growing up?"

"Beats the hell out of me," she replied, pouring him a little more wine.

"Laverne, I have to admit, the dress you picked out for Shirley is gorgeus," Rhonda said, as she admired the dress through it's protective plastic.

"Thank, Rhonda. I wanted to get her something extra nice that she could wear again."

"You've completely made Rhonda rethink her theory that brides purposely clothe their attendents in horrible dresses just so they'll be the prettiest one's there. Really, if *you* can be that secure..." Rhonda's voice trailed off, and her face colored as the impact of her words hit her. "Rhonda means, uh, uh... Squiggy, help Rhonda!" she hissed, glancing at him
sideways.

"If you don't need my help undoing your bra, you don't need my help for this, woman!"

"Well, gee. Look at the time," Rhonda said nervously, her eyes never going anywhere near her watch. "Rhonda should probably get back to her hotel to get a good night's sleep so Rhonda will be as fresh as a daisy for your joyous nuptials tomorrow. Gotta go, bye!"

As Rhonda darted out the door, Squiggy followed, hollering, "Rhonda! Wait up! I'll walk you to your car. By the way, did I mention that me and Patty have an understanding?"

Laverne exhaled the deep breath she hadn't known she was holding as the front door slammed. Almost immedately, she felt a warm hand massaging the part of her neck that joined her shoulder. Grinning, she turned and smiled at Carmine. "So, since the wedding is such a barrel of laughs right about now, are you sure you're not coming?"

She saw his practised smile fall a notch. "I want to Laverne, but..."

"But, what?"

"I may have to meet with the producers tomorrow afternoon. Right now, the meeting is in the morning, but these things can change at the drop of hat."

She shrugged. "If you have to meet with studio people, I understand. Is that the real reason?" She looked at him closely, gauging his reaction.

"Yes," he said, "for the most part..."

"I knew it!! You don't want to run into Shirley and Walter! That's it, isn't it?"

"Nah," he scoffed, then slightly recanted. "Well, running into my ex-girlfriend and her husband, and her three kids when the ink isn't dry on my separation papers from my soon-to-be ex-wife isn't at the top of my-favorite-things-to-do-list, but I can handle it. And I'd definitely handle it to be at your wedding, Laverne. You're one of my best friends, you know
that, don't you?"

"I don't know anything right now, Carmine!" Her outburst suprised even Laverne with it's intensity, as alcohol gave release to the tension that had built within her for weeks. "In the last three months I've moved in with my fiance, planned an entire wedding, become an almost-stepmother, had to deal with Squiggy for six days straight, and Lenny has all but shut me
out emotionally. I'm so exhausted, I wish the whole damn thing were over and done with . I don't know what Shirley and I were using for brains when we sat around thinking this would be the best time of our lives back in Milwaukee. Nothing has turned out the way it was supposed to, Carmine. Nothing!"

"Maybe it's not the wedding that's not working out, Laverne."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's you and Lenny."

Although his words were quiet, Laverne flinched at their intensity. "How the hell can you say that, Carmine?"

"Well, neither one of you look all that happy for a couple who's about to get married tomorrow."

"We're stressed!"

"Or, you don't want to see what's in front of you. Come on, Laverne! You are marrying Lenny Kosnowski! You're going to be his kid's stepmother..."

"Her name is Skye," Laverne replied icily. "She's one of the best things that has ever happened to me. And Lenny is the other one."

"Oh yeah? Then why were you two growling at each other? You say you're stressed out, but this looks like more than wedding jitters to me. Maybe you're both trying to avoid saying what might be the truth. That this might be a mistake."

"How dare you? How dare you come into our home and say something like that, Carmine! What the hell has happened to you? Whatever is going on between me and Lenny right now, doesn't change the fact that we're in love. Whatever we need to work through, we will."

"Do you hear yourself? Whatever? You're marrying a man tomorrow, and you don't know what's got him so irritated tonight that he's been hiding in the kitchen for the last half hour? I think you're not talking about it because you're afraid of what you might hear. You're afraid he'll say something, or do something that will cause you to call off the wedding."

"I am not!! I'm not asking him because I trust him. I trust him to work as hard on this marriage as I'm willing to work. If he needs some space, I'm willing to give it to him, because Lenny isn't the kind of guy to run away from his problems." Laverne chugged the rest of her chianti, allowing the impact of her words to sink through Carmine's thick skull.

"No, just run away and join the circus," Carmine quipped.

"That was years ago!!" Laverne looked at Carmine in amazement. "You have no idea who I'm marrying, do you? You think Lenny is the same guy who couldn't make a move with out Squiggy? The same guy who didn't beleive in anything, including himself? The guy who
didn't think he deserved anything good? Well, let me tell you something, Mister. The man who I'm going to marry tomorrow is one helluva man. He works his tail off selling ice cream all day so he can give his little girl everything he didn't get as a kid. Skye is his world, and has been ever since her mother tookoff. That doesn't sound like a loser in my book, Carmine. How about yours?" She allowed herself a moment of guilty pleasure, as Carmine stared at the
floor shamefacedly.

"I'm sorry, Laverne," he finally stammered. "I was out of line."

"Yes, you were. But, you're also enough of a friend to want the best for me. I can't stay angry at you too long for that, now can I?" A smile tugged at the corner of her lip.

"Really?"

"Really. Especially when you do that little puppy dog expression."

"Aww... Thanks, Laverne. I'm sorry. I'm--I'm not really handling this whole divorced thing all that well."

"I don't think there's a good way to handle it, Carmine."

"Edna seems to have the knack for it. I can't believe how nice she and your Pop were to each other earlier."

Laverne shrugged. "It wasn't easy for either one of them. But, I'm glad they're making the effort. Especially my Pop. He's spent enough time being sad and angry. I just want him to be happy. And, beleive it or not, me marrying Lenny is making him very happy."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's seen how Lenny's grown up. Plus, he get's an instant granddaughter out of the deal. He's not going to do anything to nix that."

"Your Pop is great with Skye. And Marianne. Marianne usually doesn't warm up to strangers that fast." He shook his head. "I don't know how the hell he did it. Raising you all alone after your Mama died. I've spent ten straight hours with Marianne today, and I'm at my wit's end."

"She's a good kid, Carmine," Laverne said gently.

"She was so awful here tonight..."

"So was Skye. They're both only kids. It's going to take time for them to learn how to behave, and share."

"I dunno..."

"Don't beat yourself up." Looking him straight in the eye, she said, "You can be a great father. Just give yourself a chance, and realize you're going to make mistakes."

Smirking, he replied, "Did you figure that out by watching your Pop all those years?"

She shook her head. "No. By watching Lenny for the last few years. He's a great dad, Carmine. You could learn a lot from him."

"He's lucky to have you, Laverne."

"No, I'm the lucky one."

"No," he contradicted as their eyes locked, "he is."

He reached out and took her hand, "Take it from someone who knows."

She felt a warm tingle where is hand touched hers, igniting memories that had been tucked away safely for a decade. Her cheeks flushed as his hand lingered on her too long. As she slowly pulled her hand back and took a step away from him, she realized the damage had already been done.

Lenny stood in the entrance to the kitchen, realization slowly dawning on his features. Blinking several times, he stormed though the front door as the resulting slam echoed through the tiny apartment.
**** Lenny ran through LaBrea park, ignoring the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and the burning stitch in his side. Stupid, stupid, stupid... He knew there had been a reason he'd been dreading Carmine's visit all week. Hell, he'd even hoped Carmine wouldn't have shown up at all.

Then again, he didn't have that kind of luck.

Even as angry as he was at Laverne at that moment, in his heart he truly couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't go for a rich, successful, actor, who's handsome, a good fighter, and talented? It was a no-brainer. The day he'd been dreading for weeks had finally arrived. Laverne had wised up. Realized she had been about to make the biggest mistake of her life, getting hitched to a loser with a failing business who could barely keep food in his daughter's mouth.

His daughter. Lenny groaned aloud. As awful as this was for him, how the hell would he explain it to Skye? Tell her Laverne didn't love them anymore? Tell her that Laverne figured out Daddy was a loser, just like her real mom did? Just like she would one day?

Choking back a sob, Lenny fell to the ground in a heap as his left knee gave out on him. As he pushed himself up from the wet grass, he saw a familiar sight. The tar pits looming before him, their dark, oily surface beckoning him, as they did to other useless and obsolete creatures so many thousands of years ago. It would be so easy...

No. He could never do that to Skye. Frustrated, shaken beyond endurance, Lenny pulled himself up to his knees and started to stand.

Only to be knocked down in a flying tackle by one hundred and seventy pounds of rock like muscle.

"I ain't gonna let you do it, Len!" Carmine wheezed in his ear, "You and Laverne got too much going for you to end it all here and now!"

"Get off!" Lenny hollered, as his face was shoved into the soft earth.

"Not until you promise you ain't gonna make a move towards that tar pit!"

"I ae onna oove oo uh arit!"

"Huh?"

"I said, I'm not going to move to the tarpit!" Lenny shoved Carmine off of him, and spit out the last bit of the divet that was in his mouth. Suddenly, Lenny lunged toward Carmine, fists balled up and furor in his eyes. "Damn you, Carmine! Damn you for coming here and making Laverne realize what a loser she was getting in me!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Laverne is hysterical right now! The only reason I even left her alone is because I thought you would do something much more dangerous and stupid that she ever would!"

"Well, you thought right!!!" Lenny looked at the blackness only yards away from him, before turning back towards Carmine. "I couldn't do that to Skye, though."

"Skye? How about doing that to Laverne, you big idiot?"

"Laverne already made her choice tonight, Carmine!"

"Yeah. And she chose you."

Silence fell between the two men, muffling even the sounds of the insects humming as they glared at one another.

"It didn't look like she was picking me from my angle," Lenny through out, combatively.

"You left too early. You missed seeing Laverne scream at me, accuse me of ruining her wedding, and sucker punch me in the gut."

"Laverne sucker punched you?"

"Yeah. I forgot how hard she can hit, too." Carmine smiled slightly before continuing, "She loves you Len. She wants to marry you tomorrow. For god's sake, go home and fix things between you two."

"We're beyond fixing, Carmine! Why the hell would she want me when she could have you? With you, she could quit her job and have babies. With me, she'll always have to work, because I can't support her the way I should. Hell, maybe you two should adopt Skye while you're at it. Give the kid a fighting chance with a normal family," Lenny broke off, as sob wracked his gangly frame. "Why do you care?"

"I care, Len. I care a lot."

"About Laverne?" Lenny held his breath, dreading the answer.

"Yes, I care about Laverne. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"Yeah." Carmine took a deep breath. "Now."

The nauseous feeling that had been building Lenny all day nearly took over. "Before?"

Carmine's smile grew brittle and his eyes, distant. "We were friends. Hurt, lonely friends who tried to see if they could become more to each other."

The world caved in on Lenny as his knees buckled, landing him painfully on his butt. Breathing, couldn't breathe... The next thing he knew, Carmine was pressing him up into a sitting position, shoving his head forward and hollering at him to breathe. When the black dots in front of his eyes stopped spinning, it took ever ounce of will he had to focus on Carmine's face, and the revulsion of his betrayal flared through his gut. "You bastard..." he choked, still gulping lungfuls of air. "How could you, Carmine? How could..." His words were cut off by a dry heave, as he tried to curl himself up into a ball, shut out the cruel and traitorous world.

"I didn't know!"

"Bullshit! You knew I had a crush on Laverne way back in junior high!"

"Yeah, a crush! Crushes are one way, Lenny! Laverne didn't feel that way about you back then, and she sure as hell didn't feel that way about you after she and Sonny broke up!"

Lenny said nothing, but continued to glare, his blue eyes almost glowing in their malevolence.

"Laverne said you two had a fight right after she and Sonny split up, and you two wasn't even friends no more! You two weren't acting very friendly back then, you were both jumping though hoops to avoid each other. What was I supposed to think, that you two had a chance?"

"So, right after she and your other friend and onetime roommate, Sonny, break up, you move in for the kill?" Lenny smiled thinly, "You're one helluva friend, Ragusa!"

"It wasn't like that! Laverne and I--what we had--didn't start until a month after Shirley moved out."

"Yeah, right! Like you were upset over that! You forget, Carmine, I was at Shirley's wedding, too! You were fine, all smiling and happy, fresh from your new girlfriend! Don't try to pull that Mr. Lonely Guy crap with me!"

"I was lonely!" Carmine took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if trying to regain control of himself. "I was devastated when Shirley married Walter. It hit me like a sock full of quarters in the nuts!"

"You two had already broken up. She dumped you for Walter, and you dumped her for--what was her name again?"

"Damned if I know. Don't you see, Lenny? Shirley and I broke up!"

Confusion rose within him, moreso than usual. "And?"

Carmine growled in frustration. "Don't you get it? We always broke up! Then we'd make up and go steady again. It was what we did!"

"Except," Lenny said, as realization suddenly dawned on him, "Shirley wasn't kidding this time."

"You got it!"

"How dumb are you, Carmine? People say I'm slow, but I'd sort of get a clue if the woman I was still in love with was walking down the aisle to marry Mummy-man!"

"I didn't think she'd really do it," Carmine mumbled, as he turned and looked over the tar pit. "I thought something would interrupt the wedding, she'd chicken out, or Walter would keel over dead. "

"You was there. None of that stuff happened, did it?" Briefly, Lenny thought his friend had worked on a soap opera a little too long.

"No. But, after she and Walter got married, she still lived with Laverne. It wasn't like it was a real marriage. I expected..."

"You expected them to split up."

"Yeah!"

"Just like you thought Laverne and I would split up if you came on to her tonight."

"Yeah--no, I don't know. I gotta tell you, Len, when I first heard you two were getting married, I wasn't too happy."

"Because you never got over Laverne?"

"No! Tonight was just an impulse, just me being a jerk. I wasn't too happy because I just remembered Squiggy's goofy sidekick from Knapp Street."

"Well, you got that right," Lenny grumbled.

"No. I got that very wrong. Laverne tried to tell me tonight what a great dad you are to Skye, what a great guy you've become, and I just wasn't ready to hear it."

"Why?"

"I'm a little jealous."

"Cause I'm with Laverne?"

"Yes, and no. I'm jealous because you are engaged to marry a wonderful woman who loves you completely. I'm jealous because you're a terrific dad who's had to do the work of two parents, while I'm barely able to babysit my own kid. In the stuff that matters, you've left me in the dust."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, I think you have an engagement to fix and a wedding to get ready for," Carmine said, as he offered Lenny a hand up from the damp ground.

Eyeing the hand suspiciously for a moment, Lenny finally took it, and felt himself yanked to his feet. "Are you going to come to the wedding tomorrow?"

"Do you want me there? I mean, I'm cool if you don't. I understand. I've been a total jerk--"

"There's been a lot of that going around, lately. I think there's something in the smog." Lenny said, smiling at his old, and once again, friend.

"Ah, the craziness that is California. Am I doing the right thing, bringing my kid here?"

"California's no crazier than Milwaukee. Look how good we turned out!" Lenny said, as the two men walked from the park, side by side.

*****

Laverne let out a harsh sob as she once again attempted to cram the lavender dress down the incinerator chute. Damn her, damn her, damn her! She leaned against the wall of the apartment hallway and slowly sank down to the floor. Damn Shirley!

Shirley wasn't coming. Eleven hours from the most important day of her life, and her supposed very best friend hadn't even bothered to phone her. Yet, she had kept hoping, like a dope. Talk about balloons never landing...

Then again, it's not like there was going to be a wedding tomorrow anyhow.

Her thoughts reeled to the scene Lenny had walked in on hours earlier. If he'd only given her a chance to explain... Why hadn't she just told Lenny herself, instead of letting him think the worst? As she pictured the looke of hurt and betrayal on his face, fresh tears overtook her. She sat on the hard hallway floor and wept, until the vibrations of footsteps drew her attention to the tall man looking down at her silently.

"Len!"

"I'm sorry I ran out--"

"I'm sorry I never told you--"

"Why didn't you, Vernie?" The condemning expression he had worn on his face earlier was replaced by one of puzzlement. "As much as I hate the thought of you with another man, especially a guy I know, I ain't stupid. I know I didn't have any claims to you back then, and I know you wasn't in a convent or nothing..."

"Not for long."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Oh, Len!" she cried out, nearly undone by the stifling pain in her gut, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you! I never meant to hurt you, especially with something like this!"

"Then, why?"

"Guilt." she whispered.

"You didn't have anything to feel guilty about. Carmine told me in the park that what happened between you two happened after Shirley left, and you and Sonny had been old news by then, anyhoo."

"I don't feel guilty about what happened between me and Carmine then. We were just lonely, torn." She looked up and held his gaze steadily, though her voice quavered. "What I feel guilty about is what happened between me and Carmine back in Milwaukee." She flinched as she watched the impact of her words hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Back in Milwaukee? But, he was with Shirl--"

"That's the part I feel guilty about." She looked away, suddenly unable to face him. "We didn't sleep together back then, but it wouldn't have made me feel any more guilty than I did. Than I do, even now," she said, looking ruefully at the formal wear stuffed into the incenerator chute. "Sometimes, I think it's a miracle that the three of us even spoke after that. Not that I'm saying all the friendships survived."

"I had no idea--"

"It's not something I'm proud of, but if it's any consolation, I'm getting payback in a big way."

Lenny's eyes followed her gaze to the lavender fabric. "I was meaning to ask you about that. Is that some sort of Italian custom I don't know about?"

Her bitter laugh turned into a sob. "Well, the joke's on me, Len. It's probably a good thing that there won't be a wedding tomorrow, since I'm sort of short on matrons of honor. Maybe this is my repayment for hurting her back in Milwaukee and hurting you here tonight."

"Whaddya mean there's no wedding tomorrow? Jeez, Laverne! Are you dumping me now on top of everything else?"

"You mean, you're not dumping me?"

"No!"

"Len, you've always been honest with me, sometimes too honest--"

"Like what I want to do with you and a jar of Bosco?"

"Yeah. Like that. I mean, I ain't never out and out lied to you, but we got a whole sin of ommission thing going here."

"I ain't the Pope, or nothing!"

"No, but you've always been honest with me. You've always gone out of your way to put my feelings ahead of yours, and--" she broke off, noticing the increasing redness in his cheeks, and downcast eyes. "Len?"

"I ain't the Pope, Laverne. I ain't even a Cardinal, or even a Blue Jay." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I haven't been thinking about you very much lately, except how worried I was that you'd find out how big of a loser you were marrying."

"What?"

"A loser. You are marrying a second rate ice cream salesman, ex-hippie, ex-talent agent, ex-truck driver, and full-time nobody."

"Lenny, don't talk yourself down like that!"

"It's the truth! Vernie, I didn't want to tell you, but things aren't going too good. Business is off, I'm behind in payments to my suppliers--"

"Why didn't you tell me, Len?"

"I thought something would turn around, something would click, and you'd never have to know."

"Len," she said gently, as she laid her hand on his arm, "if we're going to have any chance of us working out, we have to share. The bad stuff as well as the good..."

"Sharing ain't gonna help! I ain't good enough for you, Vernie. I don't make nearly as much money as you do, and I don't see that changing. At the rate I'm going, I'm never going to make enough dough for us to buy a house so you can quit your job and have babies, like you always wanted."

Impatience and frustration took over from compassion. "What the hell do you mean? I don't want to quit my job! I like my job."

He looked at her with something akin to shock on his blunt features. "Don't you want to have babies?"

"A baby, yes. Not, babies as in a whole litter!" Laverne exhaled sharply, and gathered her thoughts before opening her mouth again. "I do want to have a baby, Len, but let's face it, I'm thirty-nine. It might not be an option." She looked at him appraisingly, plunging forward with the question that had been on her lips since he first proposed, "How much is it going to matter to you if we can't have kids?" Her entire universe boiled down to the expression in Lenny's eyes. Once again, he didn't disappoint her.

"I do want to have babies, a baby" he amended quickly, "with you, Vernie. But, if we can't," he said, as he gathered her in his arms and looked her in the eye with that unnervingly unwavering expression in his eyes, the one that stripped away all her pretenses, "you are more than enough." His arms tightened around her, as if to emphasize his point.

Laverne felt a release around her ribcage, as if a chain she didn't realize that was there, just broke. Slowly, her arms encircled his neck as she drew herself up further into his embrace. They stood that way for several long moments, no longer two separate individuals, but intertwined into something stronger and greater than they were on their own.

Lenny broke the silence. "I wanna marry you tomorrow more than anything, Laverne. But, I understand if you want to wait until Shirley can be here."

Laverne looked into his caring face and shook her head. "No," she said, with a small smile, "I have everything I need right here." She spared a glance at the rumpled dress in the chute. Silly. The tags are still on the dress, she could return it. The extra cash would come in handy on their honeymoon. "I'm going to meet you, tomorrow at noon, on the beach. You can't miss me. I'll be the one walking towards you in the white dress."

"White?"

"Don't start."

"Wouldn't think of it." He glanced at his watch. "Uh oh. It's officially our wedding day."

"Eek," Laverne said in mock-horror. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony."

"I always thought that was a dumb tradition."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, as he began to nuzzle her neck, "I wanna do something much more interesting than see you right now."

"Yeah?" she said, as she rapidly began to respond to his caresses. "We have the place to ourselves. Pop took both Skye and Marianne back to his apartment to spend the night on his couch."

"No interruptions," Lenny whispered seductively in her ear, as Laverne shivered from the icy sensation of goosebumps running down her spine.

"Mmmm..." she purred in response, as she began to rhythmically rub her body against his, in a way that was comfortably familiar, yet highly arousing.

"Mmmm--wait a second, Laverne," Lenny said, as he abruptly pulled away.

She looked at him questioningly, as her hands continued to traverse his panting form.

"We agree that the past is the past, right?" At her nod, he continued. "And we're always going to be honest with each other in the future, right? I only got one question, and I swear I'll never bring it up again, ever."

"What's your question?"

"You... Uh, you and Squig, uh... You two never?" He asked, as he shook his head.

Fortunately by the time the afternoon ceremony started, Lenny's limp was virtually undetectable.

FIN




To 1977

To 1986













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