Lauren's Season Nine Continued!
Buddy, Can You Spare a Kid?
By Missy

SERIES: Lauren's Season Nine, Continued!
CHAPTER TITLE: Buddy, Can You Spare A Kid?
PART: 4 of 14, Episode 4, Pt.1 of 1
RATING: PG(Adult thematic material)
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; S/R (Possible)
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"

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?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-Cali
CONTINUATION: Of Lauren's Season Nine
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne tries to whip the Pizza Bowl into shape, Walter and Shirley meet once more, to Carmine's jealousy.
NOTES: Thank you to Lauren for letting me continue her established continuity.

****


"We ain't gonna raise him in the restaurant!" Carmine regretted instantaneously his poor choice of language. Shirley gave him a sharp look as they sat down at a booth. "We work at the dance studio uptown, Marjorie Ward's."

Walter's shoulders noticeably slumped a little bit in relief. "You'd raise him in culture, then?"

Carmine's eyebrows rose. "You said this was gonna be a visit, Shirley."

Shirley's smile trembled. "You read the letter, Carmine."

"Well, yes; this is a bit of a surprise of Shirley as well. Perhaps we should sup first."

Laverne, who had been staring in open-mouthed dismay at the ring on Fonzie's jacket, snapped out of her trance and tossed the jacket onto the counter. Withdrawing her fresh, green-shaded ordering pad, she said, "welcome to the Pizza Bowl. My name is Laverne, may I take your order please?"

Walter peered around Laverne, at the menu posted against the black velvet plaque. "Pizza?"

"Sorry," Laverne said sheepishly. "That's all we got."

"Very well. Pepperoni; a large pepperoni. Yes, that would do." Laverne recorded his ramblings. "I do believe I know you from somewhere."

Laverne's pen skidded across the pad. "Walter, I can't look that bad!"

"Oh; you're the bucktoothed one; Shirley's best friend."

Laverne's eyes bugged out, but she quietly found her own sense of calm. "I was her best friend."

"I spoke of her constantly, Walter. She married Lenny Kosnoski and she has a child now."

"Yes. We broke up because of you." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. But the sound of Lenny's name brought him up with interest. "Kosnoski? The blond boy that called me a mummy at my wedding? Why on earth would a girl marry him?"

Laverne was somewhat taken aback by his harshness, but it was, at least, explained. At least that explained his cold attitude. "Would you like a drink with that?"

"Some cola, please." When he looked away from the menu, two pairs of eyes bore holes into him. "I'm sorry, did you want something?"

***

Laverne muttered to herself as she waited for the pizza to be ready. She had stocked up on mozzarella, bought a cask of beer, and put syrup in the cola fountain beforehand. It all gave her breadth to stir together a crust from a mix, manage to make a decent, flat surface of it on her pop's old marble slab, slather it with canned tomato sauce and grated fresh mozzarella, followed by a layer of pepperoni. It baked now. A thousand emotions danced inside of her. One part wanted to scream at Shirley for bringing her very critical ex-husband to her restaurant when it clearly wasn't ready to be viewed by the public. She was fortunate that Laverne was her best friend, and that the Pizza Bowl was only a week away from opening.

Another part still marveled at what he had said about Lenny.

Laverne realized, now, that she had never allowed herself to examine exactly why she had married her husband. His proposal had been completely impulsive, given in the middle of a kitchen. It had made her realize that she really had wanted him; his absence had made her yearning a plain, obvious point. Lenny had wanted her for so long, and his want had somehow transferred itself to her, making her a receptacle for his need, his passion. Being alone gave her too much room with which to think, she supposed. Having not been without Lenny since they were small children, his sudden absence had yawned back at her, alarming and nauseating her.

She had given herself to him the morning after, underneath an old green army blanket. Lenny had never noticed that that blanket had been his, once; it had been part of his kit in basic training and he had given it to the girls. She had given it back to him twice, and the final time he gave her something in return.

Only now did she begin to understand how she loved Lenny. Walter was right in one way: she did not know why.

A whiff of burnt pizza sent her running to the oven.

***

Laverne watched anxiously as Walter, Shirley and Carmine ate the pizza and drank two pitchers of cola. When they finished, she withdrew to the kitchen.

"Your friend is a fine cook." Walter lit up a fresh cigar, and Shirley wrinkled his nose.

"Must you smoke inside, Walter?"

He laughed briefly. "Shirley, you've known me for over a year now," he said. "I need my post-meal cigar."

"I know how you feel about smoking, but I don't think it's healthy for the baby." Shirley found Davy's bottle, which Walter had left within the baby's reach, and tried to get the baby to nipple. He resisted her for such a long period that she gave up.

"It will only make his lungs stronger." Walter tousled the little boy's dark locks, a babyish squeal coming from the little boy.

Shirley's somewhat bitter smile surfaced. "Yes, he's his father's son."

"Surprisingly, no," Walter said. "Or he won't be for very much longer."

Suspicion showed on Carmine's features. "What do you mean?"

"I'm being shipped out to Vietnam," Walter said plainly. "Someone needs to take care of the baby, and my ex-wife is the logical choice. If you'll have him, Mr. Ragusa."

Carmine was appalled that Shirley seemed not to be part of the equation. "What about my wife?"

"Shirley, you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to keep your son?"

Shirley only watched Davy. "Of course I wouldn't."

"Very well; we'll draw up the papers tomorrow. My attorney will be in touch, and in the meantime, you can keep the child."

Walter had been in the middle of shaking Carmine's hand when a commotion sounded from the kitchen.

Striding with determination out of the alleys, Fonzie held up his leather jacket and said, with calmness, "The Fonz would like to know how his jacket got burned."

Walter covered gamely for his confusion. "I'm afraid that must be my mistake." He reached into his wallet. "What's the cost of the jacket?"

"You don't understand! This is the Fonz's best jacket; he got it when he passed his driver's test..."

"I trust this will be suffice." Walter stuffed a blank check into Fonzie's hand. The greaser prepared another protest, which was cut off with a wide-eyed stare as he realized what he had.

"Yes sir," he said mildly.

Laverne jogged out of the alley, Lenny and Squiggy following her. She cornered Fonzie at the door.

"You sure it's okay?"

Fonzie shrugged. "Hey, there ain't no real burn damage. I can buff this baby right out."

"Why did you take Walter's money?"

"My ma taught me one rule when I was kid: never turn down a rich man when he offers you a check."

Laverne watched Fonzie leave, then whirled around and headed into the men's room.

"Hey, Laverne, get outta there; I didn't get to use stall c!" Squiggy complained, carrying a newspaper behind him.

Lenny watched the Ragusas and Dr. Meeney with an awkward smile. After a long, long staring session, he headed toward the jukebox and pretended to fix it.

"I'll leave Davy with you." He picked the child out of the child's seat and kissed the boy on his forehead. "You be good to mommy, Davy," he instructed, taking back his coat and jacket. "Nine in the morning," he instructed, and Shirley took the millenarian order with a nod.

The doctor marched out of the restaurant, leaving a trail of cigar ashes behind him. His son, watching him intently the entire way, began to whimper even before he left his sightline. Reaching desperately, he burst into tears when the man left. Carmine plugged his ears at the noise, and Lenny tried to make himself smaller on thefloor.

Shirley sang, Shirley bounced the child; nothing seemed to work. Lenny couldn't take the sound any more and, in desperation, shoved the bottle into the boy's mouth. Davy, suckling, quelled his tears.

Carmine unplugged his ears carefully. "Think it's gonna last?"

Shirley coolly embraced the child. She withdrew ten dollars from her purse, placed them on the table, then scooted out of the booth, Carmine at her heels. "Please tell Laverne I'll call her," she said to Lenny.

"Sure, sure," Lenny said, pretending to be absorbed in the mechanisms of the jukebox.

Shirley allowed Carmine to mount the stairs before her, pausing and placing her hand gingerly on Lenny's back. He jumped at the touch.

"Thank you. Whatever Walter said about yourself and Laverne, he's very wrong. She made the right choice in marrying you."

Lenny smiled awkwardly. "Thanks, Shirley."

She carried the infant upstairs, and Lenny cloaked his tears in the guts of the machine.

Laverne found him sitting there. "You okay? Walter didn't punch you or nothin'?"

"Nah." Lenny rubbed his tears away with his knuckles. "I'll clean up. Didja get Squiggy out of the bathroom?"

Laverne shook her head.

"Vernie...What did Walter say about me?"

She responded honestly. "He said you wasn't good enough to be married to anyone."

Lenny winced.

"He was wrong, Len. You're more than good enough to be my guy."

He shook his head. "That ain't what your Pop said."

"Pop liked you, Len. He just didn't like you gettin' me pregnant so quick."

Lenny laughed mirthlessly. Finding out that Laverne had become pregnant from that first frantic encounter on the couch back in Burbank had been one of the happiest days of his life, even finding out in oblique terms in front of her best friend, because it had bound them together with finality.

Laverne continued, "He liked you, Len. I know he thought it was great, the way you take care of Tommy, and how hard you work to make sure we got a decent living."

"We don't got electricity, Laverne."

"That's my fault, Len. You're a swell provider."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah?"

At this point, Laverne was practically sitting on his lap on the floor, surrounded by the inside of the jukebox.

His kisses met he neck, then her throat. Suspiciously, she raised her head. "How long til we gotta pick up Tommy from your sister's?"

"Two hours," Lenny grinned. "I told her me and Fonzie had a huge wreck to work on..."

"You lied for me!"

"Uh-huh."

Laverne's eyes took on a more sensual form. Drawing Lenny to his feet, she led him toward the men's room door.

"Vernie, whatt're you doin'?"

"Guess!"

A happy laugh and a feminine sigh issued from behind the men's room door.

Followed by a naughty chuckle.

Two seconds later, Squiggy found himself sitting on the floor of the Pizza Bowl, his rear end planted firmly inside of Fonzie's discarded bucket of water.


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