SERIES: Babylon

PART: 2 of 5

RATING: PG (Adult thematic material)

PAIRING(s): LK/LDF; Past LDF/CR; SF/WM

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

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CATEGORY: Romance/Drama

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: Alternate post-show canon.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Lenny moves to Boston after Squiggy marries.

NOTES: A spin-off of a drabble started for Bethy’s Fingertips challenge.

****

Pigeons waddle peacefully around Lenny's feet as he pinches off pieces of crusty day-old bread and flicks them to the ground.  He's unaware, temporarily, that Laverne's watching him, and that he's been unsociably quiet for the past fifteen minutes.

He runs out of bread but doesn't meet her gaze.  Instead he stares awkwardly at his own lap - that isn't as dangerous to his libido as staring at hers, as it's barely covered by a white doeskin miniskirt.  He finally forces himself to look into her face and her green eyes suck him in.

An awkward laugh.  "How've things been?"

Laverne shrugs.  "They've been."

"How's Cowboy Bills?"

"They bulldozed it under last week."  Lenny, clearly stunned, adds nothing to this and Laverne sighs.  "If you'd read my postcards, you would've known."

"I read every postcard I get from you - but you were sending ‘em to the wrong place."

"I found that out last week.  Squiggy sent me here - by the way, why is his place your forwarding address?" 

"It's just easier, 'cause I kept moving around all year, and I just got settled into this place a few months ago.  Sorry I didn't write back, Vernie."

"It's all right - I knew you couldn't."  

"I should've known you didn't get 'em - if you did, you would've come home."

"What happened?"

She takes a deep breath.  "Long story."

"I'm listening."

Leaves flutter over his head, casting shadows in the golden light surrounding their bodies.  "It's been so damn long - I think the last time I saw you was when Pop died."

"Nope - when Squiggy got married.  I didn't hear about your Pop until a week after."

"I remember - Squig sent the note you wrote."

"He told me you said 'thanks'."

"It's funny - us talking through Squig.  I used to spend all day trying to avoid him..."

Lenny isn't in the mood for games.  "I wanna know what happened."

"Okay," she slouches. "After Pop died, Cowboy Bills and a half-share in the Pizza Bowl went to me, but his divorce from Edna wasn't final when he died.  We agreed to sell the franchise and split what we got.  After showing it for a month, we picked someone and split the money.  Last week she moved to Florida.  Pop would've been proud of me.  My share was ten thousand dollars."

Lenny's eyes widen.  "Wow!"

"Yeah - I bought a big bed, and I got a house.  Started a new bank account, too.  For awhile, things were going pretty good."

He knows from the whitful note in her voice that there's got to be something else to the story.  "Until?"

"Until Carmine."

"You and Carmine?" He manages not to show his jealousy.

"Don't say it like that.  He was good to me."

"How'd it happened?"

"It just did - we were two lonely people without Shirl around.  It seemed right to get together."

"Is he back at your hotel?"

Something in her eyes turns cold.  "No."

"Oh, then you left him back in California -"

"I don't want to talk about Carmine anymore," she says, then, injecting civility into her voice, she added, "How're you doing?  Where are you working?"

"Sam Adams," he smiled.  "I'm driving for them - and they're the big brewery up here."

"Did they push Shotz out of the Northeast?"

"Pretty much - their beer is better, too," he added in a whisper.

"You don't gotta say that under your breath, Len.  Mister Shotz don't have the trees bugged."

"You sure?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs.  "I missed talking with you like this."

"And I missed talking with you.  It's been to long since we actually TALKED to each other."

Lenny's response is lost in a sigh.  He sits up straighter.  "One of my friends, five o'clock."

Before Laverne can push herself upright, a tall man with satiny chocolate-hued skin and a neatly-cut afro strolls up to their bench.  "Well, hello," he announces himself in the voice of a preacher, "and who is this ivory goddess?" The flattery rolls off of his tongue like honey.  Confused and impressed at the same time, Laverne gives Lenny an interactive stare.  The stranger wonders, "aren't you going to introduce me, Lenny my man?"

This brings Lenny back to life.  "Laverne, this is Darnell M'Tabu.  I'm in his band."

"You're a professional musician now?" Confusion ruled Laverne's tone.

"Semi - as professional as you can be with Darnell."

"From you that's a high compliment." Laverne offers her hand - Darnell seizes it and smacks a kiss between her knuckles.  When she coughs, he drops her hand. "And you know Lenny from?"

"Long ago."

"Far away."

"You've seen 'Star Wars'.  Enchanting!"

Laverne gives Darnell a placid smile, then mumbles to Lenny, "Is that sarcasm?"

"That's Darnell," he responds, equating her tone.

"Laverne..." Darnell weighs the name on his tongue.  "Sounds like a song.  Speaking of songs..."

"Bleah - no more.  My brain can't take in anything else today..."

"I wasn't going to ask you to - just learn what I gave you by tonight.  Curtain's at six."

"I'll be there."

"And you'll bring the lady?"

"If she wants to."

Laverne shrugs.  "I don't have anything better to do."

"Then it's settled!  I'll leave backstage passes for Kosnowski and guest at the box office."

"I'll see you tonight, Darnell."

"You will."

Laverne snickers at the situation once Darnell's out of hearing range.  "Is he always like that?"

"With women, yes."

"ALL women?"

He smirks.  "I don't think he's hitting on you, Laverne."

"I didn't mind - I just wanted to know."

"Darnell flirts with every girl he meets."

"So I'm not special."

His eyes burn holes through her blouse.  "Never say that."

She shifts uncomfortably against the bench, "I gotta get back to my hotel - Shirl said she'd call and reverse the charges."

"Okay - come back to my place by four-thirty.  I gotta be there for sound check."

He moves to stand, and her hand covers his.  An electric current runs through Lenny's body at the very brush of her fingers. 

"You're a real sweet guy, Len - I missed you a lot."

His smile is bold and sweet all at once. 

***

He plays like a daemon to a nearly-empty room.  Sweat rains down from his brow and he peers through it, searching the audience, looking for her face. 

Darnell had been disappointed when Lenny showed up to rehearsal alone - but not nearly as disappointed as Lenny is.  He feels dismayed - led on - a common pattern with Laverne, as he remembers.   By rote, he moves through song after song, playing competently but without exceptionally.  He catches Darnell glaring at him midway through their fifth number, but Lenny's past caring about the unnoticed set. 

Until she walks into the club.

Suddenly, he's daemon with golden wings lit on fire by the glow in her eyes.  She waves to him and sits down - orders a beer.  Suddenly, Dylan and Cooke are the Gods of love - the Supremes hold the book and the Temptations the pen.  While she watches him, he's the messenger - the deliverer of love's power. 

The set zips by - it's past three by the time they're finished.  Laverne applauds enthusiastically - she's his best audience, always has been.  It takes an hour for them to get their gear offstage - but as soon as he's done, Lenny joins Laverne at the bar.  She pushes a mug of beer toward him and pats his hand.

"You were great."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  You got better since Milwaukee."

He studies her, wondering if that counted as a compliment.  Tipping back the beer and quenching his dry throat, he watches her look at their cavernous surroundings.  "Why do they call this place T.T. The Bear's?"

"I heard somethin' about the owner keeping a grizzly in the basement."

Laverne gapes.  "No!"

He snorts.  "Naw, I'm funnin' you."

"Don't gimmie a heart attack!"  She rests her thin fingers upon her breast.

"Didn't mean to." His smile's a weak apology.  "You really spent your vacation all on me?"

She seems guilty.  "That's part of the reason."

"Whatt're you talking about?"

"You think we could go somewhere, be alone?"

Exactly what he's always wanted.  "We could go back to my place...Cinnamon's gonna be onstage all night."

"Okay."

"Darnell!  I'm leaving!"

"I hear you, Brother Lenny.  You want your check?"

"Does sauerkraut swim in the woods?"

Darnell gives him an odd look and his check.  Lenny doesn't even look at it before shoving it into his coat pocket and pulling out Laverne's chair and then helping her up and out of the club.

They walk in tandem, without speaking, possibly unsure of what should be said.  Lenny notices a slight tremor to Laverne's cadence - a shiver in her usual wiggle that hadn't been there before - but doesn't mention it to her.  In ten minutes they've made it back to his place, she's sitting on his couch, and he's pouring her a Pepsi.

"Thanks," she sips on the soda, savoring it with a low sigh. 

"Oh!  I wanted to show you something..." He rushed off to his bedroom, then re-emerged, holding Squiggy and Rhonda's wedding picture.

She takes it from him, smiles as she realizes what it is.  "I don't believe you still got this."

"I always kept it with me.  I ain't forgotten anything."

Her smile is filled with distant dreams.  "I hoped you wouldn't.  Len, I got something to confess."

His heart began to pound.  "You can call me Father Lenny."

"That don't sound right."  She pauses to gather strength, but the words won't come.  Frustrated, tears arrive, and he's beside her in a second.

"What's wrong?"

"It's bad, Len - it's real bad..."

His heart begins to sink - he knows this isn't going to be the confession he's been hoping for.  "I can't make it better if you don't tell me."

She nods, trying to find a calm place in her quaking heart.  "It's Carmine," she pulled away from his embrace and stood up, pacing.  "He moved in with me six months after Pop died.  I was working at Bardwells and he had his singing telegram job, and everything was good.  Then he started hanging out on the beach with a bunch of thugs.  I didn't trust them - they were way worse than any of the bikers I dated. 'Cause we were together I wanted to spend some time with his friends," she sat down.  "The first time, it was just pot.  I didn't mind that - I would've been happy just using it, because I felt so nice smoking it.  But Carmine...for him, that high wasn't strong enough after a few months.  He took me down to the beach during a thunderstorm and told me to give him a dime - I thought he was going to get us a bag, but he came back with two sugar cubes - when the cars started flying, I realized it was acid.  I saw dogs talking and elephants singing - it was scary, Len.  But it wasn't enough for Carmine.  He started looking for a stronger high and someone in the group gave him cocaine," she struck away her tears.  "Everything changed so fast.  He quit his job.  I noticed big chunks of money missing from my bank account.  He started hanging out with worse crowds than the usual potheads- scarier than anything we ever saw in Milwaukee.  They didn't think twice about threatening to kill me when Carmine couldn't come up with money to pay them off.  I was afraid for the first time in my life."  She drank her Pepsi, as if to cleanse herself of the memory.  "One day his favorite dealer pulled a gun on him.  Called him a miserable wop and told him to pay up or get his legs broken.  I loved Carmine so much, but I couldn't let the drugs wreck us.  I called Edna, and she got me in touch with a faculty in the desert.  If I could've got him there, he woulda been fine.  But he caught me talking to one of the councilors a few weeks later.  We had a hell of a fight and he walked out on me - I waited for three days for him to come back, but he never did.  I found out from my bank that he took everything left in my account, and he's probably blown it already on drugs.  He needs help, Len."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"He called Rhonda from a pay phone a few days ago.  She says he was slurring his words and demanding money, and it scared her so much that she had the hotel a trace put on the line," her grip was fevered, desperate.  "He's in Boston, and somewhere in this neighborhood.  I can't let him die alone on the street.  Please, Len; say you'll help me find him."