Whirlwind

By Shotzette and OldTimeFan

PG-13

This is only a work of fan fiction, nothing to get excited about. This was written only for amusement and is not intended to infringe upon anyone’s copyrights or intellectual properties. Relax.

Alternate canon ending to “Whatever Became of Sal?”

Carmine/Shirley portions written by OldTimeFan; Laverne/Lenny portions written by Shotzette

Prologue

“Laverne please quit singing. I got something important to ask you.”

“Why do fools fall in love…” she replied, at a pitch that would have made Frankie Lymon weep.

Sal grabbed her and twirled her around as if to dance. The next thing she knew, his forearm had her pinned against him, her back pressed against his chest. “Laverne. I have a convention in Houston in two days. Come with me,” he whispered seductively in her ear, “We can stop off in Vegas and get married.”

Laverne’s alcohol soaked brain spun even faster, “Really?”

Sal turned her in his arms and smiled, “I’ve tried to forget you for the last ten years. I’ve had a great time trying, but I never was able to do it.”

Warring with her intellect, she asked, “Why me?”

Sal shrugged, “Damned if I can explain it. Why don’t you wake up Shirley, and I’ll have Carlisle swing by and pick up your father and charter a plane at the airport?” He released her and headed to the door of her apartment.

She felt a mild flush of irritation at his high handedness, “I haven’t said yes…”

Sal turned, his eyes earnest and puppy dog-like. Just like they had been ten years ago. “Well?”

Laverne couldn’t resist. “Why don’t I go wake up Shirley, pack a bag, and you can have Carlisle go pick up my pop?

Sal hugged her briefly before heading out the door. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise…”

“No, no, ladies. I can’t choose between you, you’re both too pretty. I guess you gotta share me,” Lenny Kosnowski said, humbly.

“I’ve never shared a man with anyone before,” Joey Heatherton said, her eyes flashing with passion, ”but I’m willing to sacrifice my pride for you, Lenny.”

“Me too,” echoed Twiggy as she snuggled up against him.

“See, I knew we could work this out,” Lenny said as he pulled Joey closer to him for a kiss…”

“Ewww…” Andrew Squiggman hollered, as he lunged away from his puckering roommate, “Keep your lips to yourself!”

The next sensation Lenny felt was his six foot two frame falling off of his top bunk and colliding painfully with the floor of his bedroom.

“Did I wake you?” Squiggy asked.

Lenny groaned as he picked himself up off of the floor. “Nah, I had to get up to scream anyhow. What’s going on?”

“You’ll never guess who’s taking us to Las Vegas!”

Lenny’s heart filled with glee. “Santa Claus?”

“Santa in September?” Squiggy snorted contemptuously. “Hardly. I’m talking about Sal!”

“Sal?” Lenny echoed, his mind a blank.

“Y’know, Laverne’s Sal. The guy what she almost married back in Milwaukee.”

Lenny blinked in surprise as the memory of a nice guy in a sailor’s uniform revived itself. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you gotta say?”

“No,” Lenny said, shaking his head in confusion. “Why?”

Squiggy rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Cuz, that’s the fastest place he and Laverne can get married, that’s why.”

“Why’s she marrying him?”

Again, Squiggy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. If she was in trouble, she woulda gone through with it ten years ago.”

Lenny furrowed his brow and replied flatly, “She wasn’t , and she ain’t.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Squiggy replied as he hurriedly began throwing clothes from their battered dresser into a mostly clean garbage bag. “The important thing is Sailor boy is now a rich guy-like my wildest dreams kinda rich. I figure, if we can talk him into being a silent-very silent, to the point of mute-partner in Squignoski Talent Agent of Burbank…”

“S.T.A.B!

“Yeah,” Squiggy acknowledged the interruption, “We’ll be able to get a real office, and maybe get some real clients-no more animal acts that you have to mop up after.” The smaller man’s eyes widened and he looked momentarily thunderstruck. “Maybe we can even get him to back our movie, y’know, the one we’ve been writing since last weekend.”

“Blood Orgy of the Amazons,” Lenny intoned dramatically, “A Different Kind of Love Story…”

“Exactly.”

“If he’s marrying Laverne, why’s he taking us to Vegas?” Lenny asked.

Squiggy looked up long enough from his packing to favor him with another exasperated look. “Tradition, you big dope. We was gonna be his ushers the last time he tried to marry Laverne, and when I ran into him in the hall, he seemed to think I was a good omen or something.”

“You’re an omen all right…” Lenny acknowledged.

“Maybe so, maybe so. That ain’t important. We just gotta be downstairs, ready to go to Vegas in the next fifteen minutes.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” With that, Lenny adjusted his T-shirt, donned his Lone Wolf jacket, and walked out the front door in his pajama bottoms and slippers.

***

Carmine Ragusa took a bow, and waved to the cheering crowd. Finally, he’d made it; he was a hit on Broadway, in one of the biggest shows ever to grace the Great White Way. Looking down at the sea of faces, he realized he was searching for one in particular. One with dimples and rosebud-red lips. Ah, there she was, in the first row - how could he have missed her? Somehow, she appeared front and center, clapping and smiling. But wait, who was that guy with her? Tall, with blond hair and a jaw so square it could make Dick Tracy jealous. He was dressed in white and there was a stethoscope around his neck. As Carmine watched, he turned and scooped Shirley up in his arms and planted a big wet one right on those ruby lips. He felt his blood pressure rise as he leapt off the stage, fists clenched….

“Carmine? Sweetie, wake up.”

Carmine jolted up, his fists tangled in his blanket, and stared blindly into the darkness. “What? Who’s there?” he asked, struggling to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” It was Shirley’s voice, soothing and soft. He felt her hands cupping his chin, turning his face toward her shadowy outline. “You were having a bad dream.”

“I was?” Carmine shook his head, still confused. After all, most of his dreams over the years had been of lying in his bed with Shirley Feeney beside him. Yet strangely, impossibly, the dream seemed to be reality.

He remembered and relaxed, laid back in Shirley’s welcoming arms. It was real, albeit sudden. A night out on the town, courtesy of a good week delivering telegrams that finally yielded a decent paycheck. A hot makeout session that instead of ending with a chaste kiss goodnight and a cold shower kept on going. Asking Shirley over and over if she was sure, if she was really ready, and her sighing against him that she finally, really was.

“We had sex,” he blurted, turning to gaze into her eyes in the dim moonlight streaming through the window of his bedroom.

“Well,” she said, sounding a little offended, “I prefer to think of it as we made love.”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. He felt a grin spread across his face like a goofy twelve-year-old who’d just pulled a prank on the principal. “We did. You and me. We really, actually did it.”

Shirley stared up at him, the blanket tucked strategically up over her breasts. “You’re glad, right? I mean, I wasn’t a,” and she hesitated, biting her lower lip, “a disappointment?”

“Are you kidding?” He shifted so that he could wrap her in his arms. Her bare skin against his was silky and warm and he felt his hunger for her renew. “You could never disappoint me, not in any way, shape or form. I’ve wanted this - you - forever, Shirl, don’t you know that?”

“Really?” She blinked at him. “I mean I know you wanted, ah, it, but all that waiting I put you through…I was afraid the actual - you know - couldn’t possibly live up to all that anticipation. Especially since I never - you know - before.”

God, she was adorable. He fought the urge to start kissing her, knowing he would never be able to stop. “Shirl, the ‘you know’ as you call it, was perfect. Wonderful, everything I’d ever hoped it would be and more. You know why?”

“Why?” she asked, snuggling against his neck.

“Because you saved yourself for me. In the end, with all the other opportunities you’ve had, you only ever gave yourself to me.” He wished he could say the same thing, but neither of them were under any illusions about that. Still, being with Shirley, it felt as great as his actual first time, back when he was a high school jock and that hot blonde cheerleader met him under the bleachers. Plus, he thought with a rueful smile, it had lasted a whole lot longer.

“I always said I’d wait until my wedding night,” Shirley said quietly. “That’s what I was saving myself for.”

He heard the regret in her voice and his stomach tightened. Had he disappointed her? Did she feel like she’d thrown her virginity away on a guy she never intended to be more than filler between potential husbands? Swallowing hard, he said, “Are you sorry?”

She was silent for what felt like forever. Finally, she said, “No. I know in my head I should be. I can hear my mother’s voice telling me I should have waited, that now I’m damaged goods. I know I should be ashamed.” She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. “But I’m not. I’m only sorry I waited this long. After all, I’m a grown woman, and this is the Sixties, not the Dark Ages. I should be able to be with a man in every way, right? I’m emancipated, I’ve got the same rights as anyone to make love and enjoy it.” She grinned, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “And don’t think for a second I didn’t.”

Carmine let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Marry me, Shirl,” he said.

The words hung in the air between them. Carmine could hardly believe they’d come out of his mouth, but even as they did, he knew he meant it. He’d loved Shirley since he was a kid, had moved across the country for her, and a part of him had waited forever for her to fully blossom into the woman that he knew she would become. Last night had cinched it - he never wanted to be with anyone else again, and the thought of her ever being with another man made him want to scream.

“Wh…what?” breathed Shirley, pulling back from him. She held the blanket against her chest and stared down at him as though he’d sprouted horns. “What did you just say?”

Uh, oh. Too soon, too much and too soon, he cursed himself. But it was too late to take it back now. Carmine sat up and held his hands out to Shirley, palms up. “I love you, Shirley,” he said, his voice cracking like a prepubescent. “Other women, they just don’t mean anything to me anymore. I guess they never really did. It’s only ever been you whose had my heart. So…will you? Marry me? Please?”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re serious,” she gasped.

“Uh, yeah. Not the kind of thing I’d joke about.”

Shirley’s mouth snapped shut. She slipped out of his bed and began fumbling around in the dark for her clothes. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling on her skirt backwards, “I meant what I said and I do love you, Carmine. But just because…what happened last night doesn’t mean we’re ready to take such a big step.”

Stung, he watched her fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Well, what did you expect, he scolded silently, throwing it out there like it was nothing, just something to do like going to the movies or out for dinner? His mind scrambled for a way out. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s cool,” he said, climbing out of bed and taking her by the shoulders. “You’re not ready, we’ll wait. I didn’t mean to….”

“I know. It isn’t you. It’s…I have to go.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, just reached around for her purse and headed for the door.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said, following her into the living room of his apartment. “Shirl, not now. Don’t leave it like this. Can’t we at least talk?”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. Without looking back, she said, “Yes, we should talk. But not now, okay? Laverne…she’ll be wondering where I am if I’m not home in the morning. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Shirley,” he said. No, begged. He couldn’t help but think that if she walked out the door, she’d never come back through it.

“Tomorrow. I just…tomorrow, Carmine. I’m sorry.” And with that, she darted out the door, leaving him standing there alone, as naked on the inside as he was outside.

***

Laverne took a tiny sip of her champagne and forced a brave smile. The bitter carbonation in her mouth was at war with the combination of the sake in her stomach and the turbulence of the small jet. Forcing herself to breath calmly, she looked vainly out the window, trying to focus on the horizon to rid herself of motion sickness. The pitch-black, three in the morning sky was no help.

Turning away, she surveyed the tableau in the cabin. Her father was patting Sal on the back for about the eighth time in the last hour and suggesting names for his future grandchildren. Squiggy was competing for Sal’s attention and yammering about some screenplay that he and Lenny had just written. Edna and Shirley were marveling at the lushness of the chartered jet, as Carmine watched them with an amused expression on his face. Lenny sat quietly in the far seat, bizarrely wearing his pajamas and avoiding her gaze. Once again, Laverne pinched herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. Her rapidly bruising thigh was a testament to her reality. She was flying of to Las Vegas in the middle of the night to wed her former fiancé, in a private jet funded by his millions. It sounds like a dream, she thought, wistfully.

“Hey,” said a voice behind her.

Laverne looked up and reflexively smiled at Sal before he kissed her. Her brow furrowed. He was gorgeous, the kiss wasn’t bad; it wasn’t too wet, he didn’t over-pucker, and his breath wasn’t bad. Why didn’t she enjoy it more?

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a little pale.”

Before Laverne could open her mouth to reply, Shirley piped in from across the aisle. “Don’t worry, Sal. Laverne just hates flying, that’s all.”

“She does, eh?” A mischievous grin played along Sal’s face and Laverne felt herself blushing at his scrutiny.

“Yep,” said Shirley, as she took another sip of her champagne. “She’s a big, old scaredy cat, aren’t you, Laverne?”

“I ain’t scared,” Laverne whined. “I just don’t like it is all.”

“Laverne,” her best friend said with a slight slur to her words as she rose unsteadily to her feet, “you’ve got nothing to worry about…”

“I ain’t worried,” she said, for once a little embarrassed at the loud volume of her voice. Great, a midnight flight and her best friend slash maid of honor was once again proving that she couldn’t hold her liquor worth a damn.

“It’s not going to be like the last two times,” Shirley said, not skipping a beat and apparently oblivious to Laverne’s words, “you’re not going to have to land this plane or jump out of it.”

“What?” Sal exclaimed and his eyes widening in apparent shock.

Laverne smiled, relieved that the tense knot in her stomach seemed to be easing up. “The plane landing story is too long to tell…”

“Not to mention phony,” grumbled Squiggy, who didn’t look like he appreciated her garnering all of Sal’s attention from himself.

“And the jumping out of the plane story,” Laverne continued, so used to Squiggy’s interruptions that she didn’t even let them slow her down anymore, “happened back when me and Shirl joined the Army.”

The shocked look returned to Sal’s face. “You were in the Army?”

Laverne grinned as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Just for a little while,” she replied, as she gave him a squeeze, “so I think I we can sit down to an Army/Navy football game without killing each other.” She felt irrationally appeased to see the startled look leave his face and his smile return. Smiling Sal, she thought. Such a great guy, so good-looking and rich, he’d make such a wonderful father…

Her eyes met with Lenny’s at that moment, and she was struck by the harsh grimness of his expression. Laverne distracted herself with another sip of champagne. Good, she thought. The bubbly tasted better, and her nausea was fading. She must be acquiring a taste for the good stuff.

“As I was saying,” Shirley continued shrilly, as she purposefully turned her back towards Squiggy, “You have nothing to worry about, Laverne.” Her friend raised her glass to toast, “You don’t have to land this plane, or jump out of it. All you have to do is relax and be the bride.”

Laverne was barely able to reach the barf bag in time.

***

Shirley staggered back to her seat beside Edna and flopped down in it. She craved another drink, though the part of her mind still clear enough to reason told her that she’d had more than enough already. Heck, she’d had more than Laverne, and her poor roomie was tossing her cookies already. Shirley didn’t feel like joining in. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Laverne wasn’t nearly as happy as she should be, despite the fact that she’d nabbed a real prince. Nice, good-looking, and rich as Midas. What was there to be unhappy about?

She glanced over at Carmine for the hundredth time. She’d deliberately sat away from him, but her eyes kept wandering over, as if of their own will. He was putting up a heck of a good front, all things considered. Why, she bet no one else on the plane had any idea how much she had hurt him, what with the carefully cheerful expression he kept plastered on his face.

But she knew. After all these years, how could she not? It was all in his eyes, those dark, piercing eyes that could light up with such affection, and joy, and hope. Well, I killed all that, she thought, fumbling for her nearly-empty champagne glass and downing the dregs. Nicely done, Shirley. Apparently, you did inherit your mother’s ability to chew up a man’s soul and spit it into the gutter.

She really hadn’t meant to. She’d been so full of bravado when she fell into Carmine’s arms and for once stayed there, finally consummating their almost fifteen years of on-and-off romance. He had been so tender with her, controlling his obvious eagerness so that he wouldn’t hurt her when he first entered, lovingly teaching her how to touch, to feel, to reach a peak she’d never realized was possible. Twice.

But then, when he’d proposed, something inside of her just revolted. Suddenly, his small apartment closed in like a prison cell. Her mind cried out, but I can do better than this! There has to be more, I’ve always planned on more. She felt ashamed now, just remembering, sickened by her own inability to be satisfied by mere love. Laverne’s always going on about goosebumps, stupid goosebumps, she thought, banging down her glass a little harder than she intended. Well, I’m covered with them, but what does it matter? I still want more, damn it. I finally decide to indulge myself, just give in and have fun, no strings attached, and now he wants to be tied down? How is that fair?

She looked over at Carmine again, and his eyes met hers at the exact same time. He might as well have punched her in the stomach. She jerked her head around and resolutely stared out the window. Her mother had married for love, or at least so she claimed, and it had been the biggest mistake of her life. Jack Feeney had never provided for her or the children she bore him, even when he was around. Of course, the sad truth was that Jack Feeney was a lush and a swindler and Carmine Ragusa wasn’t either of those things. But he was broke and focused on dreams of a big career that weren’t exactly realistic. In the end, how would their marriage be any different - always doing without and resenting each other for it more and more every day?

What are you doing, Vernie? Shirley asked, silently, staring at her pale friend. Or are we both losing our minds?

She’d gone back to her apartment earlier, only to be shocked by the sight of Laverne and Sal wrapped up in each other’s arms, but grateful for the distraction that enabled her to sneak past them and up the stairs. She couldn’t face answering her friend’s inevitable questions: Where have you been? Why are your clothes all messed up? So she’d ripped off her clothes, stashed them in the hamper, and yanked on her nightie before diving into bed, thinking she was safe for the night.

That feeling lasted a good twenty minutes before Laverne had burst into the bedroom, crowing that she was eloping and get up and get dressed, they were off to Vegas. Shirley had been so stunned, by the announcement and everything that had happened, that she’d barely reacted. She’d simply risen and dressed again, then numbly followed her best friend downstairs to give mechanical congratulations to the would-be groom. If she’d been remotely in her right mind, she would have slammed Laverne up against the wall and asked her if she was nuts, running off to marry a man she hadn’t even seen for a decade. But Laverne seemed so happy and Sal looked so thrilled that all she could do was sink into a funk, wrapped up in her own inability to rejoice in or even accept the proposal from the man she’d known much longer and far better.

Although Laverne wasn’t looking too happy, now.

Oh, I stink, thought Shirley. I’m selfish and greedy, just like mom. Well, tough. One night of screwing does not a commitment make. She raised her glass and called to the stewardess, “Hey, I could use another one of these.”

I may be like good old mom, she thought, watching as her glass was refilled, but at least I can drink just like my dear old daddy.

***

Laverne’s jaw dropped in dismay as she exited the limo and stepped into the harsh neon realm that was Las Vegas. It can’t be, she thought. It had to be one of the cruelest jokes of all time…

She was standing right in front of the Lucky Seven Wedding Chapel. The tacky place where she was stoned out of her mind and nearly married Derek DeWoods of London’s Bridges fame. Wordlessly, she allowed Sal to pull her through the garish entry hall.

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Sal said as he squeezed her arm in reassurance, “this is the only place that could marry us without a reservation tonight.”

Mutely, Laverne nodded. Her eyes met Shirley’s and part of her was maliciously happy to see that the sight of the place had sobered up her friend but good. Absently, she wondered if Shirley had ever told Carmine of their little pot and Vegas adventure. She dismissed the idea a split second later. She and Shirley didn’t even discuss it between themselves on the four and a half hour bus ride back to Burbank. There was no way that Angelface would ever tell her Big Ragoo about that crazy night.

Laverne’s fears crystallized when elderly Irma greeted them at the door to he main chapel. “Hello, dear…” the old woman said, her eyes lighting up in recognition when she saw the two girls.

“Hello,” Laverne replied in a nasal tone that rivaled Squiggy’s. “It’s very nice to MEET you, isn’t it, Shirley.”

“Huh?’ The quick elbow jabbing into Shirley’s ribs jerked the petite brunette back on track. “Oh, yes. It is. A pleasure to meet you, that is.”

Irma winked before nodding knowingly at the two girls as she took Sal’s credit card.

The close call made Laverne’s plane nausea return with a vengeance. “’Scuse me,” she mumbled before racing off to the ladies room.

Afterwards, she blotted her face off with a damp brown paper towel and tried to make sense of it all. Her face, harshly lit by the overhead fluorescent lights looked older than it had this morning. It wasn’t the face of a happy bride at all.

Nothing about her was bridal. Laverne looked down in distaste at the teal colored cocktail dress that had been perfect for dinner eight hours ago, but as a wedding gown… Where was the white, okay off-white, dress that she had dreamed about since her high school days? She’d never wanted the combined Elizabeth Taylor/Grace Kelly extravaganza that Shirley had been planning since she was fifteen, but she wanted…something. Something special, in a church, with the people she loved…

Laverne snorted in frustration. She was surrounded by people who loved her, she had to remind herself. Most of all, one of them was ready to marry her just as he had been ten years ago…

So why hadn’t they kept in touch? The little part of her brain that had been silenced by the sake and excitement was rapidly awakening. She and Sal had exchanged Christmas cards after they called off their engagements, and he had sent her a birthday card the following spring. Then…nothing. No cards, no phone calls, zip, nada, zed. Until this afternoon of course…

Well, he told her earlier that he had tried to forget her for the last ten years. And, she reflected, she hadn’t exactly been sitting home by the phone anyhow. They both had gone on, built new lives, forgot about each other. She was just better at it than he had been, apparently.

Well, no more, she thought angrily as she rinsed out her mouth and re-applied her lipstick. She had a chance to fix her mistake, to marry the first-and only guy who’d ever proposed to her.

Forcing a smile, she walked back out into the entry hall where she was greeted by a beaming Irma holding a garment bag.

“What’s that,” Laverne asked.

Irma’s smile grew wider. “You made the right choice, honey. Your new guy is a prince, not like…” Irma’s voice trailed off. “He called ahead and reserved one of our A package gowns-a whole gown, not just a front for pictures like last time.”

“That’s so sweet,” Laverne said, smoothly cutting her off and grabbing the bag out of the older woman’s hands. Squinting, she looked in vain for Shirley as Irma steered her towards a dressing room. ‘Have you seen my friend?”

“She was a little upset, so that handsome dark haired fellow-don’t worry, not YOUR handsome dark-haired fellow, took her outside for some air. She really didn’t look well.” Irma looked up suddenly. “You don’t suppose she’s…I mean, as you well know, we can throw together a double wedding as quickly as a single.

“She’s not, and no thanks,” Laverne said shortly as she pushed Irma out of the dressing room.

Moments later, Laverne stood in front of the three quarter length mirror studying her reflection. The dress was so…white. Glaringly so. And itchy. She surveyed the scooped neckline, the A-line long skirt and the tight, capped sleeves that were digging into her upper arms.

It wasn’t a dress she would have picked out. She sighed as she looked at the veil with its tiny headband of daisies, and debated putting it on and making herself feel and look worse. Daisies, she thought. The only person she knew who liked daisies was…

“Hello.” Lenny’s voice was quieter and less nasal than usual, but it startled her nonetheless.

“Jeez!” she shrieked, before turning and swatting at him.

“Sorry! I thought you could just use a little company is all. I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled as he turned to leave.

“I’m sorry Lenny.” She smiled wanly. “Nerves, y’know?”

He shook his head. “What do you got to be nervous about, Laverne?”

“I’m getting married, here, Len! Everyone is nervous when they’re about to get married.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’d be too happy to be nervous.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean to have some girl say in front of a bunch of people and God that she’s willing to vodey oh do with me till death do us fart? It would be the best day ever!”

“Aw Len,” she said, smiling at his words despite herself.

“You look real pretty.”

“Nah…”

“Well, okay that bow on the back of your dress makes your keister look big.”

“I got a bow? I didn’t know I had a bow...” She turned to look behind herself, and wound up chasing her tail like an agitated puppy. “ I can’t believe he got me a dress with a butt bow. Oh, I gotta get rid of that. Where’s Shirley when I need her?”

“You don’t need Shirley.” With a smile, Lenny reached into the inside pocket of his Lone Wolf jacket and withdrew his pocket tools.

“You brought your pocket tools to a wedding?”

“My old shop teacher always said…” he began

Laverne grinned before chiming in, “…Don’t go nowhere without your pocket tools.”

“You’ll never know when you’re gonna get stuck in a pay toilet,” they finished in unison, grinning.

“You’re a good friend, Len.”

His smile lost a bit of its zip. “Yeah, that’s me. Good friend, Len.”

She ignored the barb. “Seriously. It means a lot to me today that I’ve got all my friends and family with me.”

Lenny’s eyes softened. “I-we all want you to be happy, Laverne. Sal’s a great guy if he can do that.”

“He is a great guy, isn’t he?”

Lenny nodded. “Yeah. And he’s rich enough to always be able to take care of you.”

The remark rankled her. “I ain’t marrying Sal for his money.”

“I know that. Marrying a rich guy ain’t a bad thing. You won’t have to go without nothing, Laverne. You’re home free.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

“You won’t have to work no more, you can just stay home and have kids and not worry about paying the bills or nothing.”

“Len, I almost married Sal ten years ago, and didn’t have anything back then,” she countered.

He shrugged. “Yeah, you almost did. But you didn’t.”

“It was too soon. I was too young to know what I wanted back then.”

“What do you want?

She shrugged. “A family, a house somewhere, a guy who’ll be a great dad…”

“You forgot to say anything about love,” he said flatly.

“I love Sal, Len! He’s a great guy, he’s a sweetheart, he’s…”

“…gonna be a great dad. Well, then you should be happy. You’re getting everything you ever wanted tonight and you’re in a nice white dress,” he said as he ducked behind her. Laverne felt a tug and heard a small ripping sound. Lenny turned her around and held out a large white satin bow in his hand. “And your butt won’t look big in your wedding pictures, he said thickly.”

“I love Sal, Lenny.” Laverne said, then wondered why she was still trying to make her point.

He nodded blandly as if acknowledging, then dismissing the concept. “As much as you loved Randy?”

Laverne gasped aloud and words failed her, as she felt a resurgence of her earlier nausea.

Lenny clumsily took her hands in his. “I’ve seen you in love before, Laverne, and I ain’t seeing it now.”

Laverne felt tears well up in her eyes, and her voice shook with anger. “That is so unfair, Len. How could you? How could you bring up Randy’s name today of all days?”

“I’m sorry…” Lenny looked immediately chagrined, as always, as he let go of her hands and stepped away from her.

“I love Sal, and I loved Randy. I just loved them different is all.”

“How?”

The question cut to the heart of her agony. “I can’t explain it, Len. What me and Sal have needs to grow a bit,” she said, embarrassed by the weakness of her response.

“Shouldn’t everything be grown by the wedding?”

The childlike tone of his question was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “You don’t understand,” she wailed, as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t understand a lot.”

“I can’t expect love to feel like it did when I was twenty three.”

Lenny shrugged. “How about when you was twenty six? You were in love with Sonny, weren’t you?”

“That’s totally different,” Laverne said dismissively as she reached for a Kleenex.

“From Randy, or from Sal?”

“Both. Look Len, Sonny was a terrific guy and all, but he wasn’t Mr. Right,” she said, forcing patience into her voice.

“Why?”

“We fizzled pretty quickly, y’know? I mean in the beginning, we were crazy for each other.”

“Yeah, I remember that part.”

The bitterness in his tone didn’t escape her notice. “But when we were officially a couple, and then he and I…” Laverne broke off, as her painful feelings of being discarded, yet again, temporarily resurfaced. “Well, it just didn’t last too long, did it?”

“But, you did look happy with him.”

She smiled, a sad smile that faded quickly. “I was. For a while.”

“And you looked real happy when you was with Randy…”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Laverne replied, the steel back in her voice. “Come on, Len! How can you do this? I mean, this is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and all you’re doing is reminding of the worst day.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry, Vernie. Honest.”

“Too late! I’m crying, and my mascara’s running, my nose is getting red and, of course, even bigger.”

In an instant, he’d brandished a red bandanna from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Here, wipe your nose. I’m sorry, Laverne. I won’t say another stupid thing. In fact, I won’t say nothing.”

She a small chuckle escaped her, despite herself. “It’s okay, Len. It’s just been a really crazy day, and I’m tired and nervous, and a bunch of other things, too.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“I know.”

He favored her with a lopsided and sad smile. “You do look real pretty. Prettier than ever.”

“Aw…”

“Be happy, Laverne.”

She looked up, surprised by the thick emotion in his voice. The hunger she knew he’d always harbored for her shown in his eyes, along with a more altruistic expression. His generosity moved her, as it always had in the past. Smiling, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, as he leaned down towards her.

Laverne turned her head incrementally and Lenny mirrored her actions. Magnetically, their lips met, in a gentle, tentative brushing. Her first instinct was to pull back, to make a wisecrack about her lousy aim. She leaned further into the embrace instead. She felt her stomach flutter, a sensation different, but no less disturbing, than her earlier nausea. Involuntarily she shivered as she felt Lenny’s hands slowly move up her bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Laverne’s mouth opened in a silent moan and her arms encircled him to pull him closer. Lenny’s lips moved against hers, causing her knees to shake. Overwhelmed, she pulled out of the kiss and took a step back.

Lenny’s blue eyes opened and focused on her hungrily, his arms still reaching for her.

Behind him, Sal’s dark eyes flared in anger.

“You sonova-“

Sal never finished his sentence, choosing instead to whirl the hapless Lenny around to face him before punching him in the face.

***

Carmine straightened his tie. It felt like a noose around his neck. Just another reason for him to wish he’d turned Laverne down when she asked him to join her and the rest of their friends in Vegas.

Shirley had scarcely acknowledged him on the plane ride. Instead, she’d drunk like a sailor and gone on and on about how beautiful everything was, how glamorous, how tres chic. Still, he’d learned more from her drunken ramblings than any conversation they might have had.

It all came down to money. And his sorry lack thereof.

He’d always known Shirley had a materialistic side. Hell, the guys she went after whenever they were on a break were all doctors or lawyers, way out of his league…and frankly, hers. Despite the many times she’d denied it to his face, the girl wanted money, and status, and basically everything he couldn’t give her. Apparently, she wanted them a whole lot more than love.

So be it.

Carmine wandered around the glitzy, overdone wedding chapel, hoping to catch sight of a stray showgirl he could pick up as a distraction. As he passed a large, fake potted plant, he heard a whimper that drew his attention. “Is someone there?” he asked, looking around.

The whimper became a moan. Growing concerned, Carmine peered behind the plant into a small alcove. There, huddled against the wall, was Shirley.

Great, he thought. The champagne must’ve landed. He started to turn away, figuring she was someone else’s problem now, but part of him - a larger part than he wanted to acknowledge - wouldn’t let him go more than a few steps before he turned around and went back to her.

“Shirl?” he said quietly.

She looked over at him, and he was surprised to see that her eyes were swollen and red. Her makeup was streaking as fat tears dripped down her cheeks. When her eyes met his, her entire face crumpled and she sank to the floor.

A little scared, Carmine hurried over to her and took her by the shoulders. “Shirley, what is it?” he asked, thoughts of alcohol poisoning making his heart thrum in his chest. “Are you sick? Can you hear me?”

“Oh, Carmine,” she managed, between sobs. “How can you stand to even look at me?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, you are a little greener than usual, but other than that….”

“That’s not what I mean,” she snuffled. “I’m awful. I’m a terrible, shallow woman. How you must hate me.” She broke off, her entire body shuddering with the force of her sobs.

Carmine pressed his lips together tightly, deciding what he should do next. Finally, he lifted Shirley to her feet and with one arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, he half-lead, half-carried her out of the chapel.

They made their way to the alley that ran behind the Lucky Seven. Carmine propped Shirley up against the brick wall, hoping she wouldn’t fall down. “I figured we might need some privacy,” he said.

She wouldn’t look straight at him. “I almost got married here, you know.”

He wondered if she was hallucinating. “Um, no. When was that?”

“A couple rock stars. Vernie and I got stoned and we almost…poof. Just like that. Like marriage was nothing important, just something you run off and do.”

“Kind of like Laverne and Sal are doing.” Carmine tried to process what Shirley was saying, still unsure if she was rambling or telling the truth. The thought of Shirley Feeney getting high was about as likely as Shirley Feeney climbing aboard a spaceship.

“But hey, they were rich, right? Rock stars, all famous and…stuff.” She hiccupped and clutched her stomach.

“Are you going to lose it?” He glanced around for a bucket or something for her to aim into.

Shirley shook her head and waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m a Feeney. Drinking’s what we do. I can hold it.”

“Yeah,” said Carmine. “Right.”

“You know what else we do?” she continued, jabbing a finger at him. “We rip our men’s souls to shreds. Yep, that’s right. We drag ‘em to the altar, tell ‘em what a disappointment they are, and then drive ‘em away.” She glared at him, her jaw set. “Still want to marry me?”

Carmine hesitated. Was she baiting him? Did she even know what she was saying, or was she so inebriated that it was all just meaningless rambling? He stood and watched her in silence. Whatever it was, she obviously felt like she had to get it out. May as well let her.

“That’s smart,” Shirley went on, nodding. “Rethink it, Carmine. I’ll hurt you, and I’ll laugh at your dreams, and finally, when you can’t take it anymore and leave, I’ll blame you for ruining our marriage. It’s not too late to avoid it all, my friend. Run, run like the wind!” She waved her hands haphazardly in the air.

“Shirley,” Carmine said, “you’ve never done any of those things to me, not once over the decade plus we’ve been together. Why would you start just because I put a ring on your finger?”

“Because that’s what we do!” said Shirley, with an exaggerated shrug. “We emasculate our men and then we take their kids and live out our days all alone and bitter. I did you a favor, that day, when I tricked you into almost getting married? When you actually showed up and then I said no? I saved your bloody life, Carmine. And then,” she broke off, chuckling, “and then, you big dope, you go and propose again, for real, just cause you had an attack of conscience.”

“Hey. I proposed because I’m in love with you and because I thought you felt the same way.” Carmine felt his face growing warm, and struggled to keep his temper in check.

“Why? Because we fucked?”

He blinked at her. Somehow, the word coming out of her mouth was dirtier, fouler than it sounded from anyone else’s he’d ever heard. It didn’t belong between those pink lips, coming from that angelic face. Hearing her use it to describe their night together pushed his self-control to its limit.

“Shirley, I know you’re half out of your mind right now,” he said, through gritted teeth. “But don’t you dismiss what happened between us as…that. I love you, and I made love with you. I fucked Lucille Lackwash, I fucked a lot of other girls. Unlike you, I know the difference!”

“Ah, there we go,” said Shirley, an odd look of triumph on her tear-streaked face. “Now you’re getting it. I insult you, you strike back. Very good, it’s like we’re already married.”

Carmine screwed his eyes shut and shook his head hard. “What are you saying? Can you even hear yourself?” He opened his eyes and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against the aluminum side of the chapel. “Look at me,” he demanded, as her eyes darted to the ground. He shook her until she met his gaze. “That’s right, look at me. I am not your father. I am not going to let you down and abandon you. I am not going to marry you and force you to live hand-to-mouth. I will do whatever it takes to support us, and yeah, maybe it’ll be tough at first, but we’ll make it just fine. But you’ve got to stop making us into your parents in your head!” He released her shoulders and stepped back. “It isn’t fair, to either of us.”

Shirley just stood there, looking so small and fragile Carmine wondered if she might shatter then and there. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m scared, Carmine,” she said in a tiny voice. “I’m so, so scared.”

“Of what?” he asked. “Of me? You know me, Shirl, better than anyone else. You know I’d never hurt you.” He thought about their history, their past and nodded slowly. “I realize I’ve given you cause in the past to doubt me. I’ve messed around, that’s true. I’ve come and gone out of your life. But that was before.” He took a tentative step closer to her, and was encouraged when she didn’t back away. “I came across the country for you, Shirl. I’ve been here for you, only you, and we’ve been really good lately. Don’t you think?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Too good,” she said. “It can’t last.”

“Why not?” He fought down his exasperation. “Shirl, it can. We can do this, I really believe it.”

“Carmine, just because we….”

“It has nothing to do with the sex!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean, yeah, it was great, it was something I’ve waited for a long, long, long time, and it does mark a turning point for us. But even if we hadn’t come together last night, this proposal was going to happen.” He took her small hands in his and smiled. “I’ll admit, it probably came a little sooner because of it, but it was coming. When I saw you in that wedding gown a while back, well, I wasn’t quite ready for how right it felt. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since then. I thought, or at least I hoped, that you felt the same way.”

Shirley squeezed his hands, fresh tears rolling out of her blood-shot eyes. “You asked me what I’m afraid of,” she said, so softly he had to strain to hear her. “Carmine, I grew up with almost nothing. I got my clothes from the Salvation Army. When my father bothered to come home, all he and my mother did was fight over his gambling debts, his drinking, and philandering. But my mother always told me, it wasn’t like that at first. When they were dating and first fell for each other, they were so in love and they really believed that was all they needed. They were wrong.”

“So you think we are, too.” Carmine nodded, finally understanding. “Shirl, I don’t have a hoity-toity career. If that’s all you want from a guy, well, then you shouldn’t be with me.” He shrugged. “I would like to be famous someday. I’d like to have my name in lights. But I’m not naïve enough to believe it’ll be easy, if it even ever happens.”

She nodded and hung her head. He put his fingertips under her chin and raised her face again. “But Shirley, I’m not a gambler and I’m not a drunk. Yeah, I dated a lot in my time, but that’s over now. And while I might not be rich, I’m not lazy. I work, and I do what it takes to earn a living, and I always will, whether it’s doing what I love or what I need to.” He hesitated. “Can’t that be enough? We don’t have to follow in your parents’ footsteps if we don’t want to. We can be happy.”

“I want to believe you,” Shirley whispered. Her eyes bore into his, and he saw the depth of her longing, her desperate need to trust in him. In her eyes, he saw what he had to do.

“Let me earn your faith,” Carmine said. “Forget the proposal, for now. Consider us…I don’t know…pre-engaged.”

“Pre-engaged?” Her nose crinkled.

“Yep.” He nodded. “Hear me out. Give it, say, six months. During that time, I will show you that I can earn a steady paycheck, remain faithful, and treat you like a princess. After six month I’ll propose again and if you’re finally as confident in our future together as I am, then you can say yes. But in return, you have to be just as faithful to me. No running after stray doctors or rock stars, you hear?” He waggled his finger at her and was rewarded with her smile. “We’re together, going steady, whatever you want to call it. And you have to keep an open mind, not base your decision on your parents or anyone else. Just on me and you and what we can be to each other.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

Shirley stared at his hand for a moment. “I already know that I’m in love with you,” she said. “That’s not the issue.”

“Fine. Then the other stuff should fall right into place.” He kept his hand out, waiting, his heart fluttering in anticipation.

She continued to stare for another endless moment. Finally, tentatively, she reached out and took his hand and gave it a shake. “Okay,” she said, a small smile dimpling her cheeks. “Deal.”

“Deal.” He shook back, and then pulled her into a kiss. He managed to ignore the sour taste of stale champagne on her breath.

She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, still trembling. He hoped it wasn’t from fear anymore, but he couldn’t be sure. He wouldn’t be sure for six months.

But at least they had a chance.

***

“Sal, NO!” Laverne screamed as Lenny crashed heavily to the ground.

Sal tore his gaze away from Lenny’s prone form, to glare at her. “How could you? On our wedding day?”

“Sal, I…” Laverne began, but words and reason failed her. “I’m sorry,” she offered lamely. “I know it ain’t enough, but I am sorry.”

“You should be!” Sal railed as he kicked the cardboard dress box across the room.

She flinched at the loud clattering noise, but didn’t back down. “Yeah, but not just for this. I’m sorry I accepted your proposal. We ain’t ready for this.”

Sal’s voice rose to a shout, “I don’t believe it! I catch you with him, and you break up with me? You’ve got some nerve!”

His angry words forced the question she’d been avoiding all night. “How do you know what I got? You haven’t seen me in ten years, Sal!”

“I thought you were the girl I was still in love with, the one I wanted to marry!”

Laverne shook her head slowly as she regarded the man before her, noting for the first time the desperation in his eyes. “How well did you know me back then? We only went out for a month before you proposed. You wanted to get married in a week since you had to go back to San Diego for your discharge.”

He looked at her in wild-eyed disbelief. “I knew enough to think I was in love! What happened to you? I never thought you’d do something like this …”

“I shouldn’t have, and I was wrong. I won’t blame you if you hate me forever for it.”

“Glad I have your permission.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Why did we have to get married tonight, Sal?”

“I told you, I have to be at a trade show in Houston tomorrow-later today, I mean,” he amended as he glanced at his gold wristwatch.

“You couldn’t have waited for us to put together a real wedding? Or maybe we could have actually dated and gotten to know each other again?”

“I think I know you well enough right now.” He was quieter now, his eyes hooded and baleful.

“Is that what you were afraid of?”

“What?”

“We’d get to know each other, find out that neither one of us is perfect?” Her voice sounded small and childlike, even to her.

“You’re not in a position to throw stones, Laverne.”

“I know. But, this is the first time I’ve ever thought there was anything wrong about you. Really, until this moment, you’ve always been “Perfect Sal-the guy I let get away”. Now I don’t think so.”

Sal shook his head slowly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay, I’m just figuring it out myself. Everything revolves around you, doesn’t it? You decide that you want to get married, and I push aside all of my common sense and good judgment and say okay.”

“Common sense and good judgment? That’s rich coming from a woman who I just saw swapping spit with this moron.”

“Lenny’s not a moron,” she fired back, her anger growing more on Lenny’s behalf than her own. “He’s a good guy who was afraid that I was going to make a decision that I’d regret for the rest of my life and tried to talk me out of it. He just went a little too far is all.”

“How far would he have gone if I hadn’t walked in, Laverne?” Sal asked snidely.

She shook her head. “It’s not about Lenny, Sal.”

“It is to me!”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that? I’m sorry that I hurt you, first by saying yes, and second by kissing Lenny. You didn’t deserve to be hurt that way.”

“Damn right.”

“Like I told you ten years ago, you deserve to be with someone who’s totally in love with you-and that still ain’t me.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that I can do without a whore for a wife, Laverne.”

She ignored his venom and pressed on. “Why did you want to marry me so badly? I mean, look at you. You’re handsome, rich, and usually a nice guy. Why are you so hard up that you would propose to a woman who broke up with you ten years ago, then whisk her and all of her friends away to Vegas in the middle of the night for a wedding?”

“I thought,” he growled, “I was marrying the nice, Italian girl that I fell in love with years ago. I was stupid enough to think that we could have a life together and raise a family. I’ve never been more wrong about anyone in my entire life.”

“You’re not all that wrong, Sal. I want the same thing-but more. I want to be in love-real love, not puppy love or just glands. I want the love that takes time, maybe even years, to build. I want to know that person, and have them know me before making the biggest decision a person can make.”

He laughed, a harsh and ugly bark. “I know you, Laverne. I know you all too well right now, and I’m just very glad I found out what kind of a woman you were before you got your hooks into me any further. You’re no better than a tramp shilling drinks at a bar, or one of the bimbos hired to work the convention circuits. I can’t believe I thought you were different.”

“And I can’t believe I once thought you were a catch,” she replied, her voice dead of emotion. “Good bye, Sal.”

“Go to hell, Laverne.”

A groan from the ground stopped Laverne’s angry retort. “Owwww…”

“Len?” Laverne crouched down beside him, her cheeks reddening with the realization that she’d all but forgotten about his unconscious self during her exchange with Sal.

“Wha’ happened?” Lenny slurred, as he reached for the rapidly swelling bruise on his jaw.

“I happened, you back stabbing loser,” Sal said, obviously enjoying watching the other man flinch on the ratty green carpet. “She’s all yours, moron.”

“You, bastard…” Lenny lurched unsteadily towards Sal, but Laverne pulled him back.

Sal threw open the door to the dressing area and addressed the curious crowd who’d very obviously been eavesdropping. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my most sincere pleasure to tell you that the groom has come to his senses and the wedding is off.”

“Laverne?” Shirley said, her voice more squeaky than normal.

“Lenny!” Squiggy bellowed as the ghosts of lost profits danced in his eyes.

“Muffin?” Frank DeFazio’s face was gray, and his voice barely a whisper.

“Can anybody get Lenny some ice,” Laverne asked, as she watched the purple bruise on his jaw spread.

“You can get some down at the bus station,” advised Irma with a scowl, the faux pleasantness no longer evident in her voice. “You should remember how to get there.”

***

Lenny looked in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection, as he fingered the fading bruise on his jaw. One week, and he was starting to look like his old weird looking self again, he thought. It had been a rotten week to be sure, with no one speaking to him. Squiggy was giving him the cold shoulder-when he was there long enough to give it. Usually, his best friend was either working maniacally to line up the next big act, or even more bizarrely, spending time in the apartment-and company of Miss Rhonda Lee.

It was just as well, he reasoned. He didn’t need to hear for the umpteenth time how he ruined Squiggy’s career, Laverne’s future --that one came from Shirley on the bus ride back to Burbank, and Mr. DeFazio’s last chance for Italian grandchildren-- the latter insult screamed at him in the Cowboy Bill’s parking lot.

He turned his back on the mirror and peered over his shoulder at the worn letters on his jacket. Lone Wolf. The moniker no longer appealed to him. His shoulders sagged at the thought of the one person who hadn’t screamed at him yet, the one who had ever reason to. He hadn’t spoken with Laverne since Vegas. She’d cloistered herself in the back of the bus, crying quietly on the ride home, and he’d sat near the front as far away from her as possible. Then again, no one had sat near Laverne on the bus. There was always something creepy about a woman in a wedding dress crying her eyes out.

A soft knock on the apartment door garnered his attention. “Hey,” Laverne said, as she entered his home without invitation.

“Hey.”

Her green eyes flew immediately to his jaw. “You look better.”

“I won’t let it go to my head, none.”

“Lenny-“

“Laverne-“

“I’m sorry,” they both said in unison, and then exchanged identical looks of bewilderment.

“I’m sorry Sal punched you,” she offered in explanation.

“I deserved it. I’m sorry I ruined your wedding.”

“I’m not. I don’t know what I was thinking, running off in the middle of the night to marry a guy I barely know. Again.”

“You were thinking that you wanted to get married, like you always have.”

She shook her head. “No. I was thinking that I didn’t want to be alone, and it was my last chance. Just like I was the last time Sal proposed.”

“You ain’t alone.”

“I know, but sometimes I get lonely. I don’t think too good when I’m lonely.”

“Still, I’m sorry I ruined everything for you.”

Her eyes rolled in apparent exaggeration. “Lenny, there was nothing to ruin. Me marrying Sal would have been a huge mistake. I’m glad you said what you said.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Laverne nodded. You talk real good when you want to.”

“Nah!,” he replied with a guffaw.

“You do,” she insisted, “Who got me to go visit my Mama’s grave back in Milwaukee??

“Me?”

Laverne nodded. “Who talked me out of moving in with David?” She grinned as he pointed to himself before continuing. “Real friends tell each other the hard things to hear, not just the easy ones.”

His smile became bittersweet. “I guess that’s why I’m your best guy friend, huh?”

“Yeah.” Her smile faded as he turned away from her and absently began to stroke Jeffrey’s long tail. “You were right, Len. I deserve to be in love.”

“Yeah, Vernie. You do.” Lenny continued to force himself to focus on Jeffrey, briefly wondering if the iguana had ever know what it was to be in love.

“I deserve a great guy too,” Laverne added.

“No argument here. You deserve someone who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She shook her head, surprising him. “No. He don’t have to be rich, he’d just have to try to be more tomorrow than he is today. Ambitious, y’know?”

“Yeah.” He turned his attention back to Jeffrey’s scaly back.

Laverne continued without skipping a beat. “He has to know me-the real me, and that isn’t going to happen overnight. I mean, I want someone who’s seen me in hair curlers, with cold cream on my face and wearing an old sweatshirt and who hasn’t run away screaming.”

“You don’t look that bad in curlers,” Lenny remarked absently as part of him envied the stuffed iguana in front of him.

“He also has to be honest, honest enough to tell me the truth even when I don’t want to hear it.”

Lenny nodded, as Jeffrey became blurry and the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

“He’d have to be in love with me, too. Not just lonely, or desperate. But, most importantly,” she said as she walked around to face him. Laverne clutched his shoulders to raise herself to his height, “He has to know how to kiss me. Real kisses that give me goose bumps.” Her lips pressed softly against his.

Lenny pulled her closer to him instinctively, a pleasant shudder coursing through him as Laverne pressed herself against him. The kiss ended after a long moment, and he looked down at her, trying to reconcile the flushed skin and soft expression with the Laverne who’d kept him at arms length for so many years. “Laverne? I think I know just the guy…”

FIN