Hand In Hand
By Shotzette, Old Time Fan and Missy

Episode Three
By Missy

Thank You To Chesh For Tireless Hours of Betaing!

***A Week Later***


He dreamed about her.

Floating through the air, behind his eyes, in his heart. Impassive. Gorgeous. Desirable. Sweet.

Laverne.

Carmine shook him rudely. "Take a look at this, Len."

Lenny awoke with a start, almost rolling against the unlocked door.
They went wide as they looked up, up, into the gorgeous buildings before him.

They had spent a week on the road, arguing, eating, staring vacantly
into space. Honking at attractive girls in passing cars. Trying to
avoid mentioning the words 'she' or 'her'.

And they were there. In New York.

Everything was overwhelming, even this late at night; the buildings were way taller than they had been in Milwaukee, of course, and people strolled along, even at three in the morning. He was fascinated, slack jawed by the change.

The perfect place to start all over again, to prove himself a man. The same glimmer shone in Carmine's eyes.

"Wow." Lenny said cheerfully, "Where're we gonna stay?"

Carmine pulled the car against a curb and turned off the ignition, then lounged in his seat. "Right here. Night, Len"

"Night, Carmine." Then he realized that they were alone, in a big city, and only Squiggy knew where he was.

****

Shirley Feeney downed another scotch and soda. Everyone around her drank large glasses of scotch, bottles of beer. She wiped away a stray tear, setting her jaw resolutely forward.

Seven days, and no word from Carmine.

Well, she would show him. If he could treat her like a chunk of meat, she could treat some other dumb hunk like the finest prime rib. And, what better place to find it than a mixer for the armed forces?

She hiked up her not-very-ladylike black dress and smiled sweetly as a masculine hand clapped her shoulder.

"Hey," He said. His eyes were dark, and his hair closely cropped. Her eyes fell to his uniform...he was Army.

And his patch said Dr. Walter Meeney.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'Hey, would you like to dance?'"

Her mouth watered; she understood, suddenly, what had driven her best friend for years. If she couldn't have love, she might as well mirror
Carmine and follow her libido for a while. Hell, welcome to the sixties, little girl. Time to live it up.

She grinned lewdly, stroking his bicep. A wall of ice crashed down around her heart, preventing even the smallest bit of warmth to radiate from her fingers to his skin, "I would love to."

***

Laverne DeFazio smiled tiredly as she listened to Sonny go on and on about how exciting and wonderful his new job was going to be. It didn't surprise her that he had nailed his audition; that he fit perfectly into the role they had offered him. Her roses were wilting in a vase before her eyes.

Her eyes left his face and fell on the placid street outside of the
apartment. Funny, how the world kept on moving. That was the one fact
she had retained from science class; the world kept on moving and moving, and you barely feel it the whole time.

Sounds a lot like ol' Sonny here, doesn't it?

She stifled her amusement. God, it was turning into a joke; this
sweet, hunky guy at her feet, and he was merely pleasant to be in bed with. All of those preparations, excitement, promise, and she had managed to flush it down a very attractive toilet.

Well, things were looking up a tiny bit. She had been offered a brand
new job with an Aerospace plant, testing out space suits and gravity boots. Yet another sign that the future was today, and now was...well, now.

"...Anything happening with you?"

She jumped on the opportunity, explaining excitedly her new offer. His expression turned very serious.

"Now, Laverne, you know I don't want you running around hurting yourself. That sounds really dangerous, and you shouldn't..."

"I shouldn't what?!" She snapped. "Shouldn't take a job that's so much better than wrapping junk at Bardwell's?"

"Well..."

"Well?!" She mocked, "Sorry, Sonny; whether you like it or not, I'm taking this job."

He frowned, "We have a problem here."

"Yeah, I guess we do." And at that he launched into yet another lecture about what a woman's place was. Christ, he was an old-fashioned mook; no wonder her father loved him. Italian and by the book. The perfect man for his Muffin.

She wondered, silently, where Lenny was. What he was doing. And why she kept thinking of him when she had what she thought she had always needed...

***

Frank DeFazio swept a few stray crumbs from the top of his bar. Today had been an unusually slow day at Cowboy Bills. Hell, every day was a slow day at Cowboy Bills', nowadays.

Dammit...It was bad enough that Edna had walked out on him. He had pulled his head out of his ass long enough to realize that the restaurant was falling to pieces.

He should have seen the writing on the wall when another Cowboy Bills opened up the street from his place. The franchises were everywhere; you couldn't take a step without stubbing your toe on one.

He flung his rag into a garbage bag, disgust in his every move. He wouldn't look at the clock, either, refusing to acknowledge the time and day.

The only thing keeping his mind together was the fact that his Laverne was dating a good Italian boy. He would work on that putz Sonny, make him propose to his little girl, give her what she needed.

That was all that really mattered right now. And he would be damned if he wouldn't make it happen.

***

"I don't care what ya say!" Squiggy shouted at Rhonda as he rushed down the hallway, "We're gonna go to New York, an' we're gonna.." Suddenly, it was as though someone had cracked him across the back of his legs with a baseball bat. He went down, tumbling end over end, down a flight of stairs to the tune of Rhonda's horrified shriek.

He counted the stars as blackness claimed him.

****

Edna Babbish counted the stars hovering over her head as she stepped onto a curb in New York City. She smiled to herself, happy to have picked a new place over all of the old ones.

She dragged her suitcase down the street, picking out her new property from the dimly lit numbers on the very old buildings.

It was a flophouse, worse than Knapp street, but she would manage. It was better than another hour on another bus headed to another place.
Maybe she would be able to move Amy home with her, if things went well.

She climbed the stairs, turning the lock and looking into her new apartment. Somewhere else, it was midnight, but her watch showed it to be three.

She sighed to herself, wondering about her family, even after cutting so many ties, despite herself, she thought it:

Happy Anniversary, Frank.

FIN






To Chapter 2

On To Chapter 4











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