SERIES: Beautiful Like a
Rainbow
PART: 3 of ??
RATING: PG-13; eventual NC-17 (Explicit Heterosexual Sexual Activity,
Adult thematic material, language, adult content, character death, trauma)
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C
DISTRIBUTION: To Myself so far; any other archives are welcome
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CATEGORY: Drama
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SEQUEL TO : Shotzette's
"True Colors"; a true and proper one more so than "With
Words" could be.
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Early Show AU; Canon for Happy Days up to
the girls' first appearance.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Dare to dream.
(Lavenny, Shirlmine)
NOTES: An alternate version of the "True Colors" side
of things - much more romantic in nature.
***
“The Pfister Ball!” Shirley squawked as they stepped off the
bus.
Laverne wheeled around and grabbed her roommate by the
collar. “If you say that one more time
I’m gonna knock your ass in the gutter,” she snarled.
“I can’t believe it,” Shirley babbled, her eyes vacant with surprise. “The social event of the year!”
Laverne released her “friend”
and turned around, feeling the icy breeze lick her skin through the hole-laden
sweater. “I tried to say no,” she
glowered, kicking an abandoned Pepsi bottle down the lane.
“You should have tried
harder! Poor Lenny, showing up with a
chippie like you in front of all of Milwaukee Society…”
“If you call me a chippie one
more time…”
“Just try not to give the
good ones crabs, Vernie,” Shirley retorted.
“Especially Bob Pfister. I’ve
been waiting for him to look at me and if he lays you instead I’ll…”
Laverne’s fist landed right
upside Shirley’s head, and Shirley, scrapper that she was, had Laverne on her
back in the gutter in five seconds.
Brawling wildly but unable to successfully land blows, they settled for
yelling obscenities at each other while they rolled in the garbage.
Shirley managed to get the
upper hand on her friend and had pushed her onto her back when they rolled
against something heavy and warm. Screaming
to holy heaven, Shirley released her friend and backed out of the gutter, her
eyes wide.
“Shirl, we lived with rats
for five years back on Morgan street. I
dunno why you’re still scared of a little…” Laverne turned her head and came
face-to-face with the swollen, blackened features of Carmine Ragusa.
It was Laverne’s turn to
shriek and jump to her feet, grabbing Shirley for a little extra
protection. As if they were once more
the best of friends the two girls held each other and stared dumbly at the body
in the gutter.
Which moaned.
“He’s alive!” Shirley
squealed, thrilled that her potential conquest and-or-meal ticket still drew
breath.
Lucky boy,
Laverne thought, her eyes rolling. “Whatt’re
we gonna do?”
“Go call the police?”
“The police!” Laverne
wouldn’t dare do that. She had skipped a
court date for a prostitution charge recently – damn that vindictive asshole
Bob Pfister! – and the fuzz would no doubt recognize her from her once-in-a-blue-moon
stag show appearances.
Shirley rolled her eyes. “Grab his gorgeous behind and help me carry
him inside, then!”
Laverne did as she asked –
not because Shirley made the request but because Carmine was obviously
suffering, and she wasn’t callous enough to let him do that on the street. “Shirl – oof – what do we know about nursing
a guy?” Carmine was surprisingly heavy for a short guy, Laverne thought to
herself.
“We know how to take care of
ourselves – we’ll take care of him the same way.”
Shirley had his head cradled
in her palms – they were walking backwards up to the unlocked vestibule - then
with surprising teamwork to their apartment and the lumpy couch. With surprising tenderness Shirley laid
Carmine’s head on the sofa, and Laverne gave his feet equal care.
“Get some iodine for his
bruises – and run an ice bath – he’ll need aspirin when he wakes up, too.” Shirley
instructed. Laverne glanced at her best
friend with a newfound admiration – this was the take-charge determined
childhood Shirley, who would have made a fantastic nurse or a wonderful mother. Would
have only counted in horseshoes and handgrenades, Laverne derided herself,
then helped Shirley make a cold compress for her attraction.
Minutes passed, and Laverne
began to worry that she’d have to bribe her landlady into driving them all to
the hospital, when Carmine flinched and opened his eyes.
“Carmine, can you hear me?”
Shirley cried.
He winced. “Simmer down a little, Shirl,” he requested
softly. Then he smiled up at her. “I thought I heard an angel calling my name…”
Shirley grinned – an innocent
smile – and Laverne grunted her disgust.
“What happened ?” Laverne wanted to know.
“Huh?” Carmine was staring up
at Shirley.
“What happened to you?! Who beat you up?!”
“Oh – Bernado Antagliano. He runs the fight rackets at the club I box
for. I’ve been climbing up the ranks
these past couple months, see, and he wants Pablo Manconi, the guy he’s managing,
to keep the welterweight strap. I’m next
in line for a title shot, so he wants me to throw my next fight.”
Laverne frowned thoughtfully,
raising her eyebrows. “You gonna do it?”
Carmine’s jaw was
resolute. “No.”
Laverne’s eyes widened. “Are you a screwball? Antagliano’s a member
of the Gatriana Family! If you don’t
take a dive, he’ll put a real hit out on you next time.”
Carmine trembled
slightly. “This ain’t a real hit?”
“If it was a real hit you’d
be looking at a real angel,” Laverne responded.
Shirley snorted. “Or you’d be tossed in some big black box and
put in the ground.”
Laverne snorted. “Shirl, I don’t wanna argue about that
again…”
Carmine frowned at them
both. “You don’t believe in God?”
Shirley looked at the ground
and shook her head. “I got my reasons.”
“Someone who looks like an
angel and she don’t believe in God.”
Carmine remarked.
Shirley shot to her feet,
headed into the kitchen. “This needs
more ice,” she remarked.
Carmine grabbed Laverne’s
sleeve and drew her down close to him – she nearly expected him to ask for a
little tongue before he whispered harshly, “why don’t she believe in God?”
Laverne looked down, “it’s a
long story.”
“Can’t you tell me?”
“It’s Shirl’s story to tell,”
Laverne said, turning away. Her eyes
turned to the nearby wall, where two teenaged girls smiled from a frame in
their white church dresses, their hands clasped in prayer.
***
1955
***
“Smile for the camera, girls!”
Laverne giggled softly as her father coaxed her to a
bigger grin. Her Pop was so proud of
her, for today she was going to give her first solo reading at mass. Her mamma would have been even prouder…
She pushed away that thought – if her mom could have
been with her, she would have been. In a
ritual motion she clutched her silver communion locket, which held a black-and-white
photo of Josephine DeFazio, who had died in the city of Milan in 1944. Concealing a swoon, Laverne remembered her
father’s romantic stories of falling in love and marrying the beautiful Italian
girl in the heat of the war.
“Getcher head out of the clouds, dopey,” Frank said
playfully, putting down his camera, then grabbed his daughter in a hug. “You too, little peanut,” he hugged
Shirley. Laverne knew her friend loved
to be included in these moments, since she didn’t have a father and her mother
was always working. Frank always said
Shirley was Laverne’s sister and indulged them when they decided to act on that
notion by wearing their hair the same, or dressing alike.
“SHIRRRLEE!”
Laverne winced – it was Missus Feeney. They all turned to face Lillian Feeney as she
doddered up the walkway, the odor of brandy coming up the walkway.
Pop said something cordial but pointed to Missus
Feeney about promising not to drink on this day of all days, but Lilian waved
him off, grabbing her daughter’s hand and taking her into the church.
Forgetting the troubling woman, Laverne’s heart sang all
the way through the service. It even
made her forget pesky Lenny, who kept leaning backward over his pew and
grinning at her. She smiled back because
she was in church and it was wrong to tell Lenny to mind his own beeswax in the
Lord’s house. She saved her most special
smiles for Father Gracie, anyway, who
always knew how to make the service fun without forgetting that he was there to
spread the word of the Lord. She felt
extra-sad when he announced that he was being moved to a parish in Chicago on
Monday, but then it was time for her reading, so she forgot to be scared or
even notice the new priest who would take his place.
Laverne’s reading was on the story of Lot, whose wife
turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back on the burning cities of Sodom
and Gomorrah. She explained that she
thought this meant that, after asking for forgiveness in confession, you should never regret what you’d done in life – that
she should just keep moving forward and doing God’s work. Nervous as she was, Laverne felt she did well
with the speech, especially when her father favored her with a big grin on
returning to the pews.
At the conclusion of the mass, Father Gracie came up
to congratulate her on her work, then a red-haired man with elfin features and
sparkeling blue eyes held out his hand.
“Miss DeFazio, that was wonderful. I’m delighted that you’ll be a part of our
parish.”
This was the new priest. Laverne smiled and quietly groped for
names. “Thanks! I wanted the kids in my Sunday school class
to look up to me…”
“Laverne!” Shirley cried. “Oh, I’m ever so proud of you!”
“And who is this?” he asked.
“Oh…Father, this is Shirley Feeney, my best
friend. She’s Protestant, she just came
on a count of it being my first reading…”
“Really?” the father smiled, and Laverne felt her
bowels twist in the oddest way – must have been her Pop’s pepperocini breakfast. “What a stroke of luck. We’re looking for people interested in
starting up an interfaith youth program.
I’d like to have a deputy helper from another parish on board. Would you be interested?”
“Yes,” Shirley grinned, “I’d be delighted father…”
“Father Peacefield,” he smiled. The cobra curl of his lips made Laverne
shiver, but she ignored it. She was in
church. The daemons couldn’t get them here.
***
“Laverne?”
She looked up – Shirley stood
before her, holding the bin of icewater.
“He’s asleep – and you need to get up early tomorrow.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Dress shopping?”
Laverne rolled her eyes. “I ain’t going.”
“If you don’t, you’ll break
Lenny’s heart…and probably other parts of him you like so much.” Shirley knelt down on the floor, taking
Laverne’s place beside Carmine as she started toward the bedroom.
Out of courtesy, Laverne
looked back at her friend. “You ain’t
coming?”
“I’m staying here
tonight. He needs me.”
Laverne laughed softly. “You must wanna roll him real bad.”
Shirley said nothing as she
stared into Carmine’s battered face. The
argument Laverne expected never started, so she shrugged and headedback into
the bedroom where, for the first time in two weeks, she slept soundly and
alone.