Beautiful Like a Rainbow
Part 6
By Missy

SERIES: Like a Rainbow

SERIES: Beautiful Like a Rainbow

PART: 6 of 8

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 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"

 Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

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.

 

 *** 

 

Laverne fiddled with the bedspread.  Lenny’s apartment felt welcoming and somehow soothing, though she couldn’t comprehend why.

 

“Go on,” Lenny encouraged her. 

 

***

The church stood silent and lonely.  Laverne bit down the butterflies fluttering in her throat as she entered the chapel proper.

 

The tape recorder’s on, Laverne told herself.  It’s in my purse.  It’ll stay there and catch everything…

 

Father Peacefield sat before his pulpit, a silky smile upon his face.  “Laverne, my child – I understand you wanted to speak with me…”

 

“Yeah, Father…” Laverne sat down, tried to project “alluring” in her short skirt and low-cut top. 

 

“Yes…it seems you are eager for instruction…” he occupied the pew and encouraged her to move closer.  “You wanted to talk about the divinity?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Interesting – your mother had similar questions when I instructed her…”

 

Laverne gasped, the pretense of her appearance forgotten.  “My mama?  You knew her?”

 

“Oh yes – she was among my flock in Brooklyn.  A nice woman – Italian accent, I believe.”

 

“Can you tell me what she was like?  My papa won’t talk about her…”

 

His eyes darkened.  “There is likely a reason for that.  Perhaps he doesn’t want you to learn of…ah, but I’ve said too much already…”

 

“What?” Laverne gasped.  “Please, can you tell me?”

 

“Your mother had a past that caused her great shame.  She asked me to expiate her sins, and I did so…” He shook his head.  “Your poor father, he tried his hardest with her, but she was a creature of the flesh, a devilish sin incarnated.” He turned toward Laverne, pinning her against the pew.  “You are much like her, Laverne…” he stroked her face, her stiff-as-a-board form.

 

She fought – her fist connecting firmly with his midsection, allowing her to flee.  He tripped her in the aisle, pinned her to the floor, and backhanded her.  “Whore!” he bellowed, dragging her backward, closer to the altar.  “Feisty whore,” he whispered, his voice silky still a serpent.  “Your friend was far less of a challenge…”

 

“You did this to Shirl!”

 

“I do it with any lamb that catches my eye.  Your mother….how you look like your mother…the sweetest hooker of Delany Cross…” Laverne’s horror must have physically transmuted itself.  “Your mother was a whore, Laverne.  A sweet, beautiful whore.  Your father took the blame for the seed in her belly, but it may have been planted by any man in Italy…”

 

Laverne lay beneath him, trembling, paralyzed, ill.  Praying for a miracle, she willed her mind to numbness.

 

For some reason she could not fathom, God answered her call, and the weight above her body was released.

 

She blinked, watching as skinny Lenny Kosnowski whipped the hell out of the much heavier older man. 

 

“Wicked child!  I’ll have your family banished from the church!”

 

“My family,” Lenny said coldly, “’ll have you thrown out of the parish.  They’ve gone to this church for hundreds of years longer than you been a priest, pal!”

 

“It’s my word against yours…”

 

“The police’re coming,” Lenny replied.  “We’ll let them decide who’s right and who’s not.”

 

The police did arrive, questioning Lenny and Laverne.  It truly was his word against hers, but Lenny’s family had pull – the padre would not be returning to the church.  Alone in the police station, Lenny cradled Laverne against his chest.

 

It’s okay, Laverne – you ain’t what he said,” Lenny told her.

 

But deep down, Laverne had turned to ice. 

 

If her mother was a whore  - if her best friend was one – then she would become one, too.

 

***

 

“You ain’t a whore,” Lenny told her. 

 

“I am now,” Laverne said, sounding world-weary. 

 

He tilted her face toward him.  “No, you ain’t.”

 

He kissed her, caressed her, undressed her.  His mouth went low and tender upon the softer part of her flesh.  Laverne tensed – she’d never allowed him to do that, it always made her lose complete control of her body.  He held her still with his long, pale fingers, pinioning her to his face, refusing to allow her any recourse but to let go and lose herself in a mindless abyss of pleasure. 

 

She took him into her body then, listened to his confession of love, afraid to death to say the words back.  He fell away on a groan and the world seemed to end.

 

His lips brushed the back of her neck before she fell asleep.  “We’ll go see your Pop tomorrow,” he told her, “and clear this up.”

 

Were she fully awake, the notion would have terrified her, but Laverne felt such contentment that she slipped away, her hand in his.

 

***

 

“Stay with me.”

 

The words were sleepy and contented.  They were sitting on a wooden crate in a slimy alleyway.  Carmine pulled away, tucking himself back into his pants.  “Can’t, honey.”

 

Shirley’s eyes popped open.  “You still want to do that?”

 

“I toldja – my rep’s on the line.”

 

Something darkened in her blue eyes.  “All right,” she said.  “I’ll come along.”

 

He blinked.  “You sure you wanna do that?”

 

“Absolutely.  You’re just a kid,” she tucked her hand against his elbow.  “And someone’s got to keep you from getting into trouble…”

 

Her words died away as they met two hulking figures at the edge of the alley.

 

Handguns glimmered, half-hidden, in their open trench coats.

 

TBC

 


Part 5