Hand In Hand
By Shotzette, Old Time Fan and Missy

Episode Twenty-Two
By Shotzette

Thank You To Chesh For Tireless Hours of Betaing!
Episode 21
By Shotzette





Shirley Feeney opened the door to her old apartment quietly. "Vernie?" She looked around the living room cautiously. Her best friend had sounded horrible on the phone, sobbing and incoherent. The only words Shirley had been able to decipher were, "need you".

And that was all it took. Their two month estrangement be damned, Laverne DeFazio Kosnowski was her very best friend in the whole world and nothing, not even their mutual stubborness would stop that. Her keen ears picked up a tiny sniffling noise in the otherwise frighteningly quiet apartment. Shirley shivered involuntarily. She'd never seen the apartment look so empty, so desolate. For the umpteenth time she inwardly cursed Lenny's childish attempt to become what he perceived a man to be. Great idea, Lenny. A trial separation is what all struggling new marriages need most. If it hadn't been for her almost certain knowlege that Lenny would have gleefully bunked in the nearest gutter, Shirley would have agreed with Rosie's instantaneous, "Throw the loser out," mentality. But no, she argued, cajoled, and pleaded with Rosie to allow Lenny to temporarily bunk on their couch, Brylcreem and all. Sadly, she knew the arguement that actually pushed Rosie to acquiese was how much it would hurt Laverne to know Lenny chose Rosie's couch over her bed.

How do you extend the olive branch to a friend you've just stabbed in the back? As much as she had ached to contact Laverne during the past several weeks, she couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone and face her friend's wrath. Shirley willed herself to quit the self flagellation. She'd been doubling up on her meetings to prevent her guilt from giving her an excuse to lose herself in the nearest bottle.

Focusing her thoughts back to the here and now, Shirley followed the sound of sniffling up the stairs to her old bedroom. She turned on the lights, and her jaw dropped in shock.

Laverne lay on the bed, fetal position, her eyes nearly swollen shut by tears. She didn't even appear to know she was no longer alone.

"Vernie," Shirley cried out, as she rushed to her friend and put her arms around her. "What's wrong? What happened? Is your father--"

"Lenny," was all Laverne could gasp, as she curled herself up tighter, as if fortifying a shell that would protect her from all the pain in the universe.

Shirley said nothing, merely draped her arm over Laverne's shoulder and crowded onto the narrow bed. Minutes, hours, it was hard to say how much time actually passed, but by the time Laverne spoke, the copper rays of sunset were slanting through the bedroom window.

"Lenny," Laverne repeated in a harsh croak. "He-he joined the Fire Department," she gasped, as her body began to tremble.

Damnit, Shirley thought. She hadn't liked the "become a fireman" idea any better than the "run out on your bride" idea, but Lenny had assured her Laverne would be fine with it, that she'd come to terms with her grief for Randy. After all, he'd countered, she dated a stuntman, didn't she?

Shirley groaned aloud. Yes, a stuntman who was now in a probably permanent vegetative state due to an explosion. AA be damned, she should give herself a swift kick in the patootie. She knew Laverne, knew how she reacted, especially when she was afraid. She should have resurrected the old, codependant Shirley for at least a moment or two and butted in.

Why did Lenny have to choose that moment to live up to his true potential as an idiot?

"It was awful, Shirl! I had just told him I was pregnant, then he lowered the boom with his news. At first I was so happy, until he told me what his new job was. Then, his eyes bugged out and he started babbling about how we'd need his benefits now since there was a kid on the way and how I'd have to quit my job since he could finally take care of me..." A sob choked Laverne, forcing her to take hungry gulps of air before continuing, "It was just like when I broke up with Sonny, Shirl! All of a sudden, Lenny is making decisions for the both of us, it's like I don't got no choice in anything!"

Shirley said nothing, she simply let her best friend vent. I'm not responsible for fixing Laverne's problems, she vowed to herself, but if I listen to her, she may here her answer in her own voice.

"I told him he couldn't be a fireman. After Randy, after Sonny..." she broke off again as the recent grief overtook her. Swallowing convulsively, she continued on. "I told him it was the Fire Department, or me, and that he had to make a choice. Then, he started yelling at me, saying that I wanted him to remain a nothing, didn't care about his feelings. Then," Laverne said, her voice cracking, "then he chose being a fireman over me!" The shrill howl of Laverne's last words tore through Shirley like a knife. She held Laverne and rocked her, as tears flowed anew.

A stray thought, a word actually, tickled the back of Shirley's brain. Was she hearing right? No, Laverne coudn't have said--"

"Vernie," she said in a whisper, since it seemed wrong to talk in a normal tone of voice during times like these, "did you say you were pregnant?" Concern colored Shirley's question, as the horrors of her own recent past flashed before her.

"I told Lenny I was."

Months of self analysis and meetings made a red flag go up in Shirley's mind.

"Are you?" Turning Laverne's face towards her own, she peered into the green eyes she'd known since first grade, eyes that had never been able to lie to her.

"I thought I was, but--" Laverne collapsed into tears again and gestured towards her waste basket.

To the empty box of Kotex.

"Laverne! You didn't lie to him--"

"Nah," her friend whined, "I was just late. Shirl, I thought for sure..."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why didn't you go to the doctor's office and take a test? Besides, you're on the pill--"

The green eyes that couldn't deceive her looked away quickly.

"Laverne! You didn't!"

"I've been distracted lately," Laverne protested lamely, "I've had a lot on my mind. It's easy to forget to take pills."

"How many? How many pills did you 'forget' to take, Laverne?"

"A couple of weeks..."

"You've got one helluva nerve, sister!" Anger boiled through Shirley's body at her friends irresponsiblity. "You have no right to bitch and moan that Lenny's making all the decisions, yet you make the biggest one that a couple can make, without his consent? Laverne, did Lenny know you went off the pill?"

"How could he? He's been sleeping on your couch for two months!" Laverne leapt off of her bed and started to pace back and forth, gesturing angrily with her hands. "You've seen my husband more than I have lately! All I get are phone calls, and notes! " She let loose a bitter peal of laughter before continuing, "I saw more of him in the good old days when we were living in sin! All I do is go to work, put in all the overtime I can, since I ain't got nothing to come home to. This is my life now, Shirl!"

"And you want to add a baby to all of your other problems? Are you insane?" Shirley crossed over to the dresser at the far side of the room, looking at her friend with disdain.

"A baby would--"

"Fix your problems? Bring you two closer together? Make your Pop a grandfather like he's always wanted? Laverne, none of those reasons are a good excuse to bring a new life into the world1"

'You seemed happy when you were pregnant" Laverne spat back.

"Yes, and that all worked out so well for everyone involved, didn't it? Laverne," she said, forcing her voice to become gentle, "I had been drunk nonstop for over a month when I got pregnant. Do you really want to compare yourself to me?"

Laverne shook her head violently, before collapsing on her bed again.

Shirley sighed, and counted to ten silently before sitting down beside her friend and stroking her heaving back.

"I know you're hurt, Laverne. For what it's worth, I tried to talk Lenny out of this, but your man is pretty stubborn."

"Some man," Laverne mused angrily, "Until today, do you know when the last time it was I saw Lenny?" When Shirley shook her head, she went on, "My birthday. My happy twenty eighth. By the way," she said, as she favored Shirley with an icy look, "Thanks for not sending a card, or anything."

"I'm sorry, Laverne. That was petty of me. I wish I had acted more like an adult," Shirley replied, shame staining her cheeks pink.

"Well, at least you were a little kinder than my husband. All I got from him was a quickie in the middle of the night. I wasn't awake for most of it, and I didn't even realize I wasn't dreaming until I realized Lenny was crawling out the window. That made me feel real special," Laverne quipped sarcastically.

"I'm sure he thought he was being romantic, Laverne," Shirley said sympathetically, as she remembered the night Lenny came in at four in the morning, and nearly knocked over Rosie's bookcase in the dark.

"Or he was tired of jerking off."

Banishing that mental picture from her mnd, Shirley stood up abruptly and grabbed her friend by the upper arms. "Okay, Laverne. You need to take a deep breath and get a grip on yourself. How long have you been crying?"

Laverne shrugged, "I dunno. Two or so?"

"Well, it's nearly seven now, so I think you're done for the day."

"Shirl, nothing's fixed..."

"And it won't be tonight, Laverne," Shirley replied with her newly familiar steely resolve. "You don't fix problems in one day. Life's not like a TV show, where everything is resolved in a half hour." At Laverne's blank look, Shirley continued enthusiastically, "You've cried enough over Lenny today, haven't you?" At Laverne's weak nod, she continued, "Good! Now, I want you to march into that bathroom, fix your runny and drippy face, and throw on that party dress that I always thought made you look trampy."

Laverne glanced down, at her rumpled cut offs and t-shirt. "I think this outfit's plenty good for crying in, Shirl."

"Yes, it is. However, you're done crying for now. Now is when you make yourself pretty, and I run home and make myself pretty, then the two of us very pretty gals who have some very good things in their lives; go to Club Twenty-One to hear Carmine sing."

"I'm not really in the mood to go out--"

"Which is why you need to go out. You yourself said all you do is work and mope. That doesn't sound like the fun Laverne who's my bestest friend in the world, now does it?"

Laverne looked around the empty bedroom, wincing as her eyes fell on the two twin beds. "I am pretty sick of this place." She looked at Shirley, and a sad smile crossed her face. "It hasn't felt like home for a while, and I'm tired of being alone here."

"Good," Shirley said softly, as she pulled her friend into her embrace. Then, with a defiant chin that would have made Seargean Alvina T. Plout proud, Shirley said, "I can be changed and back here in forty five minutes. Be ready."

"Yes, m'am," Laverne replied, with a mock salute. "Oh, and Shirl?"

Shirley turned around from the doorway, looking at her expectantly.

"Ask Rosie if she wants to come along, will you?"

"Why?" Shirley's brow furrowed and the possiblity of playing referee all night left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I'll cry in front of you. I'll cry in front of Carmine. I ain't never cried in front of Rosie Greenbaum, and I never will. And," she said as she momentarily squared her rounded shoulders, "I think I'm done crying for the day."


*****


Rhonda Lee Squiggman purred like a contented cat as she rolled away from her husband and stretched sensuosly in their bed. There was a lot to say about these mid-western types, she thought to herself as she looked at the half empty jar of honey on her nightstand. They were a helluva lot more adventursome than Rhonda would have ever given them credit for. Then again, as she glanced at the ceiling and saw Squiggy's reflection smirking back at her in the mirror's reflection, she didn't think she'd ever take anything at face value again.

"I always thought you was gorgeus, y'know," he said sincerely, his fingertips stroking her collarbone causing her sensitive skin to become awash in goosebumps, "but I only just realized a while ago how beautiful you actually is."

"Squiggles," she sighed, as she kissed him softly on the lips.

"Let's go out," he said abruptly.

"Out?"

"Yeah, you know? The place that's the opposite of in? Whaddaya say, my turtledove?"

"Well, I sort of thought we were in for the night," she said throatily as her fingertips drew tantalizing designs down his torso.

"The night is young, and so are you! Besides," he said, as an earnest expression took over his countenance, "I'm having a really good day," he paused, looking down between their intertwined bodies, "I' mean really good. Let's go out and have some fun," he pleaded with his dark eyes.

Rhonda didn't have to question him further, the thought was one they shared. Sonny St. Jacques had proved to them all that life is a gift, and there were no guarantees. For anyone.

"I think I could be persuaded to your line of thought, Mr. Squiggman."

"You do, eh?" Inspiration seemed to strike him at that point. "Y'know, it's been a long time since I've heard Carmine sing. Who knows? Maybe he's gotten good?"

"Always a possiblity," Rhonda replied with an indulgent smile. "I'll start the shower, and we can start getting ready."

"I ain't gotta take no shower. It's not like I've been loading beer in trucks all day, or nothing."

"Andrew," Rhonda responded in a voice that was suddenly steel. "I said, I'll start the shower and we can get ready. Besides," she said, as the faint tone of a pout changed the timbre of her voice, "who's going to help Rhonda clean all those hard to reach places, hmmm?"

"Right behind you, my goddess," he said as he slowly got out of their bed and started to follow his wife into their bathroom. Suddenly he turned and limped back to the nightstand. Retrieving the jar of honey, he smiled as his eyes glinted with nefarious promise.

She hadn't seen anything yet...


******


The club wasn't very crowded when they arrived. Apparently, even in Los Angeles, most people laid low on Wednesday nights.

A hostess led them to a table off to the side of the stage, as she signalled a waiter to come and take their drink orders.

Not bad, thought Laverne. Not as good as the table Carmine got us when Lenny and I-- She bit her lip and looked at her clenched hands. No. She was done with Lenny. For tonight, anyhow. Forcing a smile, she looked up into the concerned faces of her best friend and the toad she was living with.

"You okay, DeFazio--er, uh, Kosnowski?"

Laverne nearly groaned aloud. The only thing worse than Rosie Greenbaum was Rosie Greenbaum when she was trying to be nice. As if her universe wasn't topsy turvy already...

"Ladies," intoned the very handsome waiter who appeared as if by magic beside them, "what are you drinking tonight,"

"I'll have a Coke," Shirley announced, quickly.

"I'm sorry, we don't serve Coke, only Pepsi," the young man who's nametag read 'Brad' replied.

"All right, a Pepsi, then."

"And you?" The young man asked, as he gave Laverne a leering once over with his eyes.

Smiling at him, she handed her drink menu back to him with her left hand and was pleased when his eyes lit upon her wedding ring. Another time, another place, handsome. She grinned up at him and said, "I'll have a Pepsi, too."

"Laverne," Shirley said, flatly, "Just because I won't drink, doens't mean you can't. Order what you want. You can't tiptoe around me for the rest of our lives. Or anyone else," Shirley added, squeezing her hand and winking.

"You're right, Shirl. I was being silly." Laverne gave her most beguiling of smiles to Brad as she said, "Throw some milk in that Pepsi."

"Aw, geeze," Rosie groaned.

Brad looked faintly sick. "And you m'am, " he asked, his entire body seemingly poised for a cringe.

"Boilermaker. Wild Turkey and Bud. And make it snappy," Rosie groused.

"Still got all the class in the world, Greenbaum," Laverne muttered under her breath.

"What was that?'

"I said I'm glad you were able to come out with us tonight, Rosie," Laverne said, surprising everyone including herself.

A familiar laugh drew Laverne's attention to the left. She smiled as she saw her father, Edna, and Amy sitting at a table right in front of the stage. Amy looked so excited, she was practically jumping out of her skin as she kept looking for someone. And Laverne didn't have to be a genius to figure out who that someone was.

She saw Edna pat Amy's hand, before she gathered up her hand bag and headed to the corridor that led to the ladies room.

No time like the present. "Excuse me, Shirl," she said, as she left their table and headed towards the corridor.

The ladies room was very classy and very elegant, with an art deco chess board tiled floor. Fortunately for Laverne, it was also very empty, save for one very important person.

"Hey, Edna," she said, as their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror above the sink.

"Laverne," Edna replied, obviously startled. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight,"

"Yeah, me neither until about an hour ago. Laverne took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked her stepmother right in the eye. "Edna, I got something to say to you."

The older woman's expression immediately froze up as she turned her attention back to the tube of lipstick she was holding. "Laverne, I think I've heard just about enough of you in the last several months, and I really don't care to hear anymore. If you'll excuse me," she said frostily as she turned on her heel and headed to the restroom door.

"I'm sorry, Edna."

"What?"

"I said, I'm sorry. Not for what I said in New York," Laverne added hastily, "or for being angry with you when you left my Pop. What I'm sorry for is that I never even tried to forgive you, or let go of my anger. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't know what to say, Laverne," Edna breathed, as she leaned back heavily against the vanity.

"Well, you might want to move, because you just sat in a puddle."

"Oh, no!" Edna scooched quickly away from the damp counter as she turned to see if her skirt was stained. And turned, and turned, and turned, until she was literally chasing her tail like a bored puppy.

Laverne's lip twitched. When her eyes met Edna's they both burst out laughing. Their laughter grew in volume as tears started to roll down their cheeks. The moderately funny moment gave way to a catharsis both women needed, the end of a year of pain and estrangement.

Long moments later, as they both leaned against the tile walls, wheezing with the last vestiges of their giggles, Laverne gasped, "I'm glad you and Pop are back together."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, he was so miserable and hurt when you left, I kinda forgot how happy you made him when you two were together. And Edna, you do make him happy, happier than I've ever seen him."

"I love him, Laverne," she stated in a matter of fact manner. "Even when I was divorcing him in Reno, I still was in love with him. I'm just not used to," she hesitated briefly, "working things through. When my other marriages went bad, I mean real bad, there was nothing left to work out. Hell, there was nothing worth working out. Your father is different. I wish I had stayed and fought it out with him, screamed at him, done something to fight for what we had. Because," Edna said, as she looked into Laverne's eyes with the air of a woman who'd seen and done it all before, "once that door closes, it's harder than hell to open it again. Understand?"

"Yeah," Laverne whispered, as tears threatened to overtake her yet again that day, "I do. Oh, and Edna?'

"Yes?"

"Thanks for always being in me and Lenny's corner. I know I didn't make it easy on you, and I know having yet another thing to argue about with my Pop isn't how you wanted to fix things."

"Laverne, you are a grown woman. No one, not even your father, has the right to tell you who to love, or how to love them. Those are decisions no one else can make for you, because you have to live with them. Take it from someone who knows," she said, as she hugged her stepdaughter warmly.

Laverne accepted her embrace, and at that moment, truly realized how much she had missed her friend--no, her stepmother, in the last year.

"Well," Edna said, wiping her eyes with a paper towel, "will you join us? There's plenty of room."

"Nah, I'm here with Shirley. And Rosie. We're having a girl's night out sort of thing," Laverne said quickly, hoping that the little white lie would go unnoticed. The last thing she needed tonight was her father questioning her about Lenny's whereabouts. Tonight was about having some fun, and taking a break from the not so wonderful details of her life.

"Come join us if you change your mind," Edna said knowingly, as she left the restroom.

*****

The small gray mouse scurried from one end of the filthy basement of Club Twenty One to the other. Despite the owner's recent renovations to the rest of the club, the tiny store room with the auxillary fuse box had remained the same since the building's Depression Era construction. The building inspector had made a note in his preliminary report that the secondary wiring should be replaced within the next year or so. It wasn't a large issue, considering the majority of the club's electricity came from the state of the art circuitry installed on the other side of the kitchen.

How was the building inspector to know that one of the guitar players in Carmine's back up band was plugging in his defective amplifier in the wrong outlet at that moment? A momentary power surge, that's all that would most likely occur.

The building inspector also included in his report that the basement of Club Twenty One was dry and well insulated from the outdoor elements of Los Angeles. Leaky basements were not a worry in southern California, even if the foundation hadn't been as solid. The inspector never would have imagined that the leaking sink in the ladies restroom two flights up would allow water to wick down the drywall, and eventually touch the frayed wiring at the top of the fuse box.

Within half an hour, the small room was engulfed in flames. Upstairs, Carmine's band played on.


*****

Lenny Kosnowski let out an exasperated breath and flopped over onto his left side in the narrow bunk.

"Hey, new guy," a voice rang out in the darkness, "give it a rest, will you?"

"Sorry," Lenny mumbled. Great. My first night in the firehouse, and already I'm making friends.

After his fight with Laverne, he'd wandered for blocks and blocks in his sad, mustard colored uniform. Anger warred with pain in his soul. He had thought she would have been so happy, so he him have a real job, something he could commit to, be enthusiastic about.

A way to make a difference.

When he started thinking clearly again, the first thing he did was to dash over to Rosie and Shirley's to collect his things. Laverne showing up at Rosie's apartment for round two of Kosnowski vs. Kosnowski wouldn't be good for anyone.

A quick call to the firehouse affirmed that he could start early. Hell, the dispatcher sounded thrilled to have him, even if he was just a trainee, since three of the guys on call tonight were just about falling over with the flu.

How could everything go from being so right to being so wrong in a matter of seconds? He thought for sure Laverne would have been proud of him. He was going to be a fireman, just like Randy. Lenny wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but contrary to the opinions of every teacher he had in high school, he wasn't a moron, neither. He knew there were risks.

Hell, did Laverne think driving an eighteen wheeler on two hours sleep, pep pills, and gallons of coffee was a safe job?

The day he first walked into the firehouse, he'd begged and pleaded with the fire captain to give him a chance. He knew the cutoff age for new recruits was twenty five, but his persistance--and the fact he had a valid trucking license and could potentially drive the big engine better than most of the other recruits, worked in his favor. For the next month and a half, Lenny worked at Burger World, excercised maniacally, and did the one thing in the world that had always terrified him, and made him feel like a bigger idiot than he knew he was.

Lenny Kosnowski studied.

He studied his ass off for the fire exam. Every afternoon, in the Burbank Public Library, he studied departmental procedures, chemical reactions, and safety regulations. He learned more in the last several weeks than he did in all of his four and half years of high school.

And he did it on his own. He didn't have Squiggy around to coach him, like he did through the driver's exam back at Shotz. While Shirley agreed to keep his secret, her largesse didn't extend any further. And Rosie? Well, she had been acting less mean to him, lately.

Becoming a firefighter made him feel good about himself. Instead of being the cool guy's sidekick, and the hot girl's husband; he was going to be the guy who helped people, saved them.

And of all people, he had Sonny St. Jacques to thank for it. That horrible day, when he was doing chest compressions on the guy who had been his rival, that he'd seen maimed right before his eyes, an eerie calm had taken over him, as if he were mentally willing Sonny to revive as he and Shirley worked on him. When he had looked over at Shirley, he saw a rare kinship in her eyes, and knew she was sharing his epiphany.

He had meant it to be such a big surprise for Laverne.

He smirked in the darkness. Well, he got that part right at least. The last thing he remembered was her screaming at him in the Burger World parking lot about how selfish he was, and how could he do this to her and their baby.

He shuddered involuntarily.

Baby.

When it rains it pours, he thought to himself grimly. God forgive him, but he and Laverne needed a baby like a hole in the head right now. What the hell was she thinking, starting a family when they hadn't even spent the night alone in their apartment as man and wife?

Then again, mocked the ugly little voice in his head, Laverne's not the one who left. It wasn't her decision not to see him at Rosie and Shirley's apartment, she merely gave into his wishes. No matter how he had spent the time apart from her, when push came to shove--he had run out on her.

Just like his mother had done to him.

And now, the woman he loved more than his own life was with child.

The ugly thought was in his mind before he could squelch it. Was it his? Counting his little late night surprise, the two of them had been together exactly twice since Sonny's accident. Seeing a guy mostly get blown to bits hadn't helped his libido much lately. The exhaustion and depression didn't do him any favors neither.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chided himself angrily. Way to go, Kosnowski. You leave a woman who has abandonment problems, even on a good day, alone, angry, and hurt for two months. If you ain't there to comfort her, you can't blame another guy for trying to pick up her pieces.

And how could he fault her for making a mistake, when he himself had made so many?

Laverne would never do that, he tried to reassure himself. Of course not. Then again, until recently, he'd never thought she'd never screw over her best friend by making out with said best friend's then boyfriend.

He counted to ten and tried to get a grip on his emotions, like Shirley had taught him. Laverne and Carmine were old news. As much of a blow as it was to hear the story as he did, deep down, he knew whatever (and he still never wanted to know all the details) happened between those two died years ago in Milwaukee.

Great. Carmine mght be too straight arrow to get some on the side these days, but this was Los Angeles. The place was lousy with guys trying to get lucky. And his wife worked in an Aerospace Plant. A place chock full of men. Lonely, nerdy, sensitive men; who were desperate for a woman's touch. Guys like him, but smarter.

Lenny let out yet another groan.

His pity party was cut short when the bright lights came on suddenly, accompanied by a shrill buzzing sound.

"What the--" Lenny started, as he looked around in confusion.

"It's called a fire, dumb ass," said the exasperated voice from earlier, except now it was attached to a squat, muscular guy with thinning hair. "You remember that from training, don't ya?' He asked, as a wide grin took the sting out of his words.

Lenny blushed, then immediately dashed to locker marked "Kosnowksi" and concentrated on getting his gear on in the correct order while he listened to the information coming over the loudspeaker.

"There's a two alarm fire originating on the ground level of 4500 Sepulveda Boulevard, approximately twenty five civillians inside. Access to the premisis and cause of the fire unknown at this time."

4500 Sepulveda Boulevard was Club Twenty One! Lenny started to move even faster than he had been before.


*****

"Thank you! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!" The microphone barely elevated Carmine's words above the din of his standing ovation. "The guys and I are going to take a short break, but we'll be back in ten minutes. Thanks again!"

Carmine beamed from ear to ear. It had been a great set! The new material had blended seamlessly with his standards, and the band had been on. He paused a moment to reflect how long it had been since performing had made him feel so good, so complete, so--"

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie. He turned around to see a smiling Shirley Feeney.

"Hello," he said, with a smile.

"Carmine, you were wonderful," she said earnestly.

"Thanks, Ang-Shirley," he corrected quickly. Old habits die hard.

She ignored his gaff, and shook her head as they walked around the corner to the wings. "No, Carmine. I mean you were really wonderful," she repeated for emphasis. "In the past, when I've seen you perform, I knew you were good. But, you were also my boyfriend, and I always sort of wondered if that clouded my judgement about you. I mean, you always want to think the people you love are the best, don't you?"

"You always did," he replied kindly.

"What I saw tonight, however, was a very gifted and talented performer. I saw some who deserves every bit of success that comes his way, because you've always worked hard for it, Carmine."

Her words touched him. They were earnest and sincere, not the hormonally charged gushing of an infatuated teenage girl. And that made them all the more important. "Thank you, Shirley. That means a lot, especially coming from you." He blushed self-consciously before continuing further, "It wasn't just me, though. The band was great tonight. I think they're finally starting to gel together. They were on fire!"

She giggled at his slang, "Yes, Carmine. They certainly were on fire tonight."

"Fire!" Came a shout from around the corner, as they continued to laugh.

"Seem's like it's the general opinion, eh Shirley?' he chortled.

"Fire!"

Shirley and Carmine looked into each other's eyes and saw the forboding grow there.

"C'mon," Carmine said gruffly, as he pulled her back around the corner and into the lounge.

The entire left end of the club was in flames.

FIN

Fin





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On To Chapter 23











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