Hand In Hand
By Shotzette, Old Time Fan and Missy

Episode One
By Shotzette

Thank You To Chesh For Tireless Hours of Betaing!

Episode 1 - "Hand in Hand"

"We'll go hand in hand
But we'll walk alone in fear"

Joss Whedon
"Where Do We Go From Here?"
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Once More With Feeling"


His meager possessions were laid spread out in front of him as he did a quick mental inventory before stuffing them into his old Army duffle bag. Jeffrey, his guitar, his good shirt (in the mayonaise jar, of course), his hawaiian shirt, plaid dinner jacket, spare pair of jeans, and two extra tee shirts, boxers, and an extra pair of socks.

He was ready to face the world on his own now.

Burbank wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Sure, there were more opportunities. But not for a guy like him.

There were certainly more beautiful women roaming about than there were back in Wisconsin. But they never gave him the time of day.

He thought leaving Milwaukee would change things, change him. But it hadn't. He was still the same loser his mom ran away from when he was nine. Just the cool guy's sidekick. The big doofus who never knew what to do with his hands, or say with his mouth.

He also thought that moving out here with Laverne would bring them closer together. That he'd be a familiar, friendly face in the great unknown.

She'd realize she needed him.

He suddenly glared at the paper thin party wall that separated their apartment from the one next door. Laverne was apparently doing fine in the great unknown. A helluva lot better than he was, if the intimate sounds of the last hour were any indication.

He didn't care what the rest of the world thought. Well, not much, anyways. But she was never going to think of him differently. She still saw the same jerk she'd known since she was six. The guy that would never be worthy of her.

He didn't know who he hated more at that moment, her, or himself.

His jaw clenched as he started stuffing his belongings in the bag more quickly. He'd show her. Hell, he'd show everyone.

Lenny Kosnoski was going to make something of himself.

He took one long last look around their apartment, trying to memorize the tiniest details in case he never came back. Because you're only coming back if you're a success, this is the last they see of Lenny the Loser, he promised himself silently.

His gaze finally came to rest on his best friend's sleeping face. He hoped Sqiggy would forgive him for running out in the middle of the night. Ever so gently, he pried Squiggy's hand from his jar of moths, and slipped an envelope into the crook of his elbow that contained his share of the rent and a note. He hoped the note would explain his leaving. Besides, it was hard enough to write "goodbye" in a note. He knew he couldn't look into his best friend's eyes and say that word.

It was all for the best, he said to himself, as he picked up his bag and gave himself a brisk shake. Without me around, Squiggy might actually make a go out of the talent and ice cream business. Lenny had never really felt like he had fit in as a smooth-talking talent agent and ice cream salesman.

Quietly locking the apartment door behind him, Lenny tiptoed down the stairs to the street. Two blocks later, he stood on a major thoroughfare, holding his thumb out and hoping for the kindness of strangers.

His future lay before him.

*****

Laverne rolled over and looked at the sleeping man next to her.

Sonny St. Jacques was freaking gorgeous.

She'd never been out with a guy like him. Well, maybe Fonzie counted... But she had known, no matter how many times she made out with the Fonz, he'd always be the unattainable dream. And she would always be one of a million or so lucky girls who got to spend any time with him.

Sonny was different.

He said loved her. Her heart nearly stopped earlier that night when he told her so over the romantic dinner he cooked for her. Granted, the chicken was overdone and he overboiled the peas until they were mush, but the thought was there. Also present had been a very large bottle of chianti.

Candles, Johnny Mathis playing on the stereo... It had been perfect. Well, she reflected as she squirmed restlessly in his bed, maybe not perfect per se...

The one night she'd waited for ever since she and Shirley started planning their first times with their Prince Charmings. Of course, Shirley's fantasy was always preceded by an elaborate wedding complete with a bishop, six foot two Nordic groom, eight bridesmaids, and a dozen white doves being released when she and her beloved said their vows.

Laverne was quietly more realistic. Deep down, she always knew she wouldn't wait for her wedding day. However, she thought as reality began to intrude on her afterglow, she did think there'd be an engagement ring on her finger. Or, at least a promise ring.

She shook her head to clear the old fasioned notions away. Things were different now, she told herself, these are the 1960s and this is California. The old rules don't apply anymore. You're no longer in Milwaukee where the neighbors gossip when you come home from a date after midnight. There aren't any assembly line workers to snicker behind your back if they see you yawning all day. You don't have to wear a turtleneck in July to cover a hickey.

Even Pop's changed, she marvelled. Well, she ammended as she stroked the muscular bicep in front of her, definitely not changed enough that I'd ever tell him about what happened here tonight. But now that he had Edna and the Cowboy Bill's franchise, she didn't see him nearly as much as she did back in Milwaukee. She supposed that was a good thing. Maybe he knows I'm a grown up? Or, more likely, he and Edna are having too much fun in their trailer for him to worry about me anymore. Oddly, that last thought wasn't as comforting as she thought it would be.

Pushing thoughts of her father away, she snuggled closer to her boyfriend. Or, she thought to herself, lover would be the more accurate term.

Wow. She had a lover.

Shirley would just die if she knew.

No reason she has to know, Laverne told herself. Besides, Shirley "Wait-till-the-Wedding-Night" Feeney would never understand.

*****

Carmine Ragusa willed himself to stop trembling as he held the sleeping woman in his arms.

Dear god in heaven, he thought to himself, what have I done?

This date started like a thousand other dates he and Shirley had been on in there on-again-off-again eleven years together. Dinner, a movie, then back to his place for a little fully clothed and all too short make out session.

Or so he had thought.

Tonight was different. Tonight he hadn't been gently pushed away and told to take a cold shower. Tonight the passion he always had known to be lurking underneath was finally let loose.

Tonight he deflowered his Angelface.

So why did he want to throw up?

Because, you idiot, he screamed inwardly, this is Shirley! The girl who's been saving herself for her wedding night, a fact you know better than any one else alive. For her to have done this meant she was expecting something big.

A marriage proposal. A committment.

From him.

Carmine started breathing heavily in a way that did not resemble passion in the least.

She expects me to make her dreams come true, he realized. She expects me to fill the gap in her imagination left by her doctor husband, four bedroom house in the suburbs, three children, and collie named Dave. Me, the chronically broke, uneducated, unsuccessful businessman, former boxer, part time singer, and part time dancer.

He thought that moving to Hollywood would make all of his dreams come true, both professionally and personally. He thought he could finally catch that brass ring and get some dancing and singing work in the movies.

The joke was on him. The days of the big budget, Gene Kelly musicals of his childhood and teen years were over. The only dancing parts he'd seen advertised in Variety lately were for Frankie Avalon beach movies. He'd gone on a few auditions for those movies. He vividly remembered being the oldest, shortest, and most ethnic looking guy in the room. He wasn't surprised when the choreographers called his number during the first set of cuts each time.

Should have done some research, Ragusa, he taunted himself, all the real dancing jobs are on Broadway--on the other side of the country. He grimaced as he imagined Shirley's reaction to moving an entire continent away from Laverne, just to chase his crazy pipe dream. Theatre work, that's a good way to earn a steady living.

Nothing's changed, he mused, I'm still the guy that can barely keep a roof over his own head. His face reddened in shame as he remembered how many times he'd conveniently shown up at the girls' apartment around dinner time.

Or the months he stayed with Lucille Lockwash, always with his hand out, ready to snatch up whatever trinket she offered him. You know what they call guys who do that for a living? Gigolos. He could add that to his list of part time jobs, he thought with a sneer.

He never had felt lower in his entire life than he did at this moment. How could Shirley have squandered something she prized so much on a bum like himself? How long would it take her to begin hating him? A few years after they married? Or a few months? Maybe she could stay in denial until they had a baby? Then he'd have two people to disapoint.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he let his self-loathing take hold. This won't do, he reminded himself. He couldn't let his Angelface make the second biggest mistake of her life, since he let her make the first biggest tonight. He set his jaw resoloutly. No matter how hard it is, you have to let her go, Ragusa, he said to himself. It will hurt her, but better a little hurt now than a lot of hurt down the road. She deserves better than you, and she'll realize it soon enough.

Carmine quietly retrieved the jeans and shirt he had been wearing earlier from the haphazard pile on the floor. He deliberately left Shirley's where they lay.

He dressed quickly as he planned his next move. There was an all-night newsstand three blocks away. He could buy an issue of Variety and get a jump on the competion. As he looked back at the beautiful face sleeping peacefully on his pillow, he vowed to focus soley on his career, since he woudn't have a personal life after tomorrow anyhow.

*****

The sound of a door slamming jarred Shirley Feeney from her sound sleep. Disoriented, she blinked several times before getting her bearings. "Carmine's apartment," she finally whispered aloud. Better than that, Carmine's bed. She felt a warm tingle course through her body as she remembered the tenderness and passion of a few hours past.

So strange, she mused. When she'd dreamed of this moment in the past, it had always included a handsomely dozing doctor, an exquisite negligee in virgin white, and a one carat princess cut diamond with matching band on her left hand.

At this moment, she didn't care a fig about any of it.

She would hop in a car and marry Carmine in Las Vegas if he wanted, rush down to City Hall and tie the knot on her lunch break, or even say her vows in front of that poor, chemically-addled man who claimed to be a minister on Hollywood Boulevard.

None of her childish, grandiose plans mattered anymore.

She just wanted him, wanted to be Mrs. Carmine Ragusa anyway she could.

It was the real thing.

Everything had just been so right between them. She knew Carmine was finally ready to give up his playboy ways and settle down. He'd already committed to moving across the country with her, an action that's selflessness brought tears to her eyes every time the thought about it. Carmine was through with other women. She hadn't even caught him looking at other girls since he'd moved to California. Here, she thought, in the land of the well-endowed Amazons, her Carmine was finally proving himself to be the trustworthy man she always new he could be.

And he was finally in Hollywood! That magical city where he would be recognized for all the talent he had. How much further could he have gone back in Milwaukee? Owning a dance studio and wasting his time teaching kids who had a fraction of his talent? No! In Hollywood, Carmine could be a star. The world would be his oyster, after he smoothed out his auditioning skills, and started winning some small parts in films. Maybe he could even have his own television show some day, like Dean Martin?

Giggling, Shirley hugged the spare pillow on the bed to herself, as her future started to look brighter by the moment. A small flicker of concern crossed over her face as it finally dawned on her that Carmine had left the small studio apartment. Her face broke into a grin as she jumped to the logical conclusion.

The poor boy probably doesn't have a scrap of food in that tiny refrigerator, she thought to herself, he probably ran out to buy some breakfast to surprise me with.

As she rolled over and burrowed under the covers, Shirley willed herself to fall back to sleep, knowing the man of her dreams was ready to take the next step.

*****

Edna Babish DeFazio stowed her suitcase in under her seat as she gave her fellow passengers on the Greyhound bus the once over. What a motley crew. That's one aspect of California she wouldn't miss. The weirdness.

Still, weirdness was better than stagnation any day. If she thought otherwise,she'd still be back in the double wide with the man she loved.

It's amazing how you can love a man, mind, body, and soul; yet have no interest in his dreams. She tried, lord knows she tried.

Frank was a wonderful man. It would take her a long time to get over him.

He was all she'd miss, however. She was bored with Cowboy Bills. She found the franchise regulations stifling and a recipe for mediocrity. She didn't know how Frank handled it as well as he did, after being his own boss at the Pizza Bowl for nearly twenty years. Running the Pizza Bowl had been challenging and exciting. For a while, at least. Just like owning and managing the apartment building had been. For a while.

There was always something better over the next hill, though. A new challenge, another exciting chapter. There had to be more to life than coming home after a hard day's work and vegetating in front of the television set. There had to be more than hanging on as a periphreal fixture in her step daughter's life.

Stagnation equals death. It had always been her motto, and it had seen her through eighteen states and five marriages.

Actually, death is what started the whole thing off.

Frank had been so pleased with himself when he purchased her a cemetary plot next to his in Brooklyn. At first, he thought she was angry because she would be on his right, while his beloved Josephine was on his left. Laverne and her future husband had nice plots across from there's, but over looking the duck pond, according to Frank. Edna wondered if Laverne new what a nice piece of real estate awaited her and the lucky man of her dreams.

At that point, she had started to cry.

He was planning their eternal resting places, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to rest yet.

She was ready to travel, ready to take on a new business challenge, ready to learn to play the clairinet, and ready to start taking a pottery class. The last thing she wanted to do was think about her grave.

Thinking about it is the first step, the tiny voice in her head told her, you think about it enough and --Wham! It happens, you're dead.

Edna wanted to go quickly and unexpectedly. She loved surprises after all.

Frank hated surprises, as he once again demonstrated as she left the trailer for the last time.

She tried to explain that she still loved him, that she was sorry she was hurting him, that she would sign over both the trailer and the franchise to him. He only heard she was leaving him.

It would be over in a week, she thought to herself. Reno was nine hours away, and it would take her less than seventy two hours to get her no contest divorce granted once she got there. Maybe she could even learn to deal blackjack while she was there. That could be challenging. For a while, at least.

Edna smiled sadly as she looked down the dark highway and wondered what surprises awaited her around the next bend.

*****

Squiggy started at the sound of a door slamming.

"Lenny?"

He glanced over at the dilapidated twin bed across the room from his. It was empty. The clock said four AM.

A wide grin broke out across his face. "Lenny, you sly dog, you..." Well, it looked like Lenny's date with Wendy the waitress had gone better than expected. The grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. Lenny getting lucky? What were the odds?

Still, he reasoned, as long as he was interested in a girl who wasn't Laverne, it was a good thing. He sighed aloud. The Laverne obsession had been out of control for years. Sure, Lenny said he was over her after she gave him the "friends are forever" speech.

Right.

Doesn't explain how Lenny got out of control at the Royal Cactus Motel. Doesn't explain how he moped for days afterword when Laverne wouldn't speak to him.

Shirley didn't speak to him for weeks, it didn't bother him none. Then again, with all the Hollywood starlets at his feet, and one lovely Miss Rhonda Lee across the hall, who had time to notice plain little Shirley Feeney no more? And it had nothing to do with Carmine threatening to pull his insides out through his nostrils if he even thought Squiggy was harboring anything close to an impure thought about his little Angelface.

Like he was afraid of a tap dancer.

Anyhoo, none of that mattered. What mattered was that Lenny was finally moving on and finding out there were a lot more fish in the sea than a certain mermaid named Laverne. It was about damn time.

Still, it didn't explain where Lenny was. Squiggy hoped Lenny had hung on to the emergency dime he kept in his sock

Four AM wasn't too early a time to get up, he reasoned. Plus, one of the good parts about being an entrepreneur was being able to make your own hours. He was sure he could catch a nap in the ice cream truck later in the afternoon. Between studio appointments, of course.

A rustling noise caught his attention. Mice? He felt a girlish scream start to emerge from his throat when he noticed that there was an envelope tucked between his chest and his jar of moths.

He reached out with his left hand for the letter as he tried to steady the jar with his right. Or, as he would have if his right hand were working. The envelope and the jar crashed to the ground. The jar shattered releasing eighteen of his beloved moths back to the wild.

Had he noticed, Squiggy would have cried. As it was, he could just stare in dumbfounded amazement at his lifeless and numb right hand.

FIN



On To Chapter 2











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